


Shotgun Wedding

by TheAuthorGod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Assassins and Bodyguards AU, Bottom Dean, Dead John Winchester, Dead Kate Milliagan, Dead Lucifer, Dead Mary Winchester, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed, in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8711722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/pseuds/TheAuthorGod
Summary: When Dean's step-mother, Kate Milligan, dies, she leaves with them three bodyguards, one for Adam, one for Sam, and one for Dean, which Dean receives as a slap in the face from beyond the grave.---“Castiel was hired to protect Dean.”Zachariah took a long pause. His eyes darted over the paper a bit. In the vacuum, Dean met Castiel’s eyes and held them.





	1. Black Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> I quickly rewrote Chapter 10, so there may be some errors there. I'll flush them out over the next few days (possibly weeks because it's the end of the semester and time is a thing I don't have too much of...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. :)

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 1  
  
Dean didn’t have a black umbrella.  
  
He was rather indifferent to the rain and almost found it fitting for the death of his step-mother, Kate. He was only upset about not owning a black umbrella because it would make him stand out. If there was one thing that his father had taught him, it was that he shouldn’t stand out.  
  
He shouldn’t be remembered.  
  
Dean waited by the door for his brother and half-brother. Sam and Adam both had much closer attachments to Kate. Dean hadn’t. He had been older when he met Kate. He remembered his mother in a way that Sam didn’t. Kate’s death was tragic, but he wasn’t as torn over it as either of the other occupants of the entry way.  
  
Sniffing, Adam wiped at his red-rimmed eyes. “Alright.” His voice was so low that Dean almost thought that he had imagined it. Sam sniffed too though and patted his hand to Adam’s back.  
  
Nodding, Dean opened the door and led them out into the rain.  
  
They ran to the car, his late father’s 1967 Chevy Impala. It was black. It would fit in well behind the black hearse.  
  
Sam and Adam both were in the back, possibly out of habit, since Kate had always sat in the passenger seat. They both were staring at the seat when Dean checked on them in the rearview mirror. They continued to stare with wet eyes for the entire ride.  
  
They didn’t say anything when Dean made a pit stop at the drug store. He pulled three black umbrellas out of the umbrella caddy and stood in the line, somber like the weather outside.  
  
His eyes caught the cinnamon gum in the display and picked up a pack. Kate had loved it. It was one of the things that his father had found endearing about the woman. She smelled spicy, like the spitfire that she was.  
  
Dean threw a pack of the gum onto the counter with the umbrellas.  
  
As he ringed them up, the cashier carefully kept looking away and didn’t ask anything. Dean found it almost cowardly of him. If he didn’t want to face the presence of death then he shouldn’t live at all. Of course, that was a cruel way to put it, but it was the only way to put it in Dean’s mind.  
  
He exited with the umbrellas and didn’t open one to get back to the car. Instead, he raced through the rain to the Impala, getting utterly soaked and carrying three umbrellas.  
  
Next they went to the funeral home. It was rather extravagant. That was why John had been first drawn to Kate. She was loaded. She lived in a huge house by the inheritance of a man who had run an entire commercial conglomerate. In his death, she had profited. Technically, in her death, Adam had profited.  
  
Neither Dean nor Sam had expected to inherit anything; they weren’t her real kids. Dean had hoped that Sam would get something from the only mother he’d even known, but hadn’t felt the need to hope for himself. They’d been surprised, and Dean was relieved, when Sam had been included in the will. Dean’s name hadn’t been mentioned. He’d be fine without any help; he was always fine without any help.  
  
A letter that had been enclosed with the will would be read the next day. They’d invite the lawyer into the living room and sit around the coffee table and discuss the last Kate’s final wishes were. Dean would probably be wearing something colored and Sam would wear muted colors in mourning. Adam might not even come downstairs.  
  
Pulling the Impala into the parking lot, Dean found the spot reserved for ‘the family of the deceased’ and parked her.  
  
They waited a long moment.  
  
Dean swallowed. “You ready?” He turned to look at his brothers.  
  
His mind seemingly elsewhere, Sam nodded a little.  
  
In the passenger seat, Dean rummaged through the pile of umbrellas to give Sam the largest of the three. He then gave Adam the second largest. He left the smallest for himself.  
  
Sam opened the door and the umbrella before stepping out under it. Adam did the same on the left side of the car. Dean didn’t open his umbrella; instead, he slipped it into his pocket.  
  
They entered the room with the pews and the casket. Dean had left the gum in the car; its red packaging, shiny with rain, on the leather seat. It was a little gaudy, a little understated; it perfectly represented his step-mother.  
  
Sitting in the front row, Dean shifted awkwardly. He wasn’t big on the churchy thing. He wasn’t big on the religious thing. Kate had been, so here they were.  
  
Sam and Adam both looked too sad to look uncomfortable in the setting.  
  
The service was small. A few colleagues of Kate’s came. That didn’t worry Dean. It was the colleagues of his father’s that came that worried Dean. Many of them were hulking men, men that Dean had known forever and never trusted.  
  
Each of his brothers spoke, but, to be honest, Dean couldn’t recall what they said. He was too aware of the shifts and fidgets of the men in the backmost rows. He was on high alert.  
  
Immediately following the service, they were going to the graveside mini-service. Dean wasn’t entirely sure why Kate got two services one right after the other. His father had gotten one. His mother had gotten one. Why did Kate get two? Why did Kate get to have a long mourning period from her family?  
  
Dean’s mother died and, like whiplash, Dean was uprooted and put on the road. His mourning had been cut short.  
  
Following the hearse on autopilot, Dean ended up at a lavish, upper-class cemetery. They drove along the faded tar paths to get as close to her burial patch as they could.  
  
Already soaked, Dean left the umbrella in his pocket when he approached. There was a small tent, so others would probably be umbrella-less. He wouldn’t stick out too much. This time, though, the pack of gum joined the umbrella in his pocket. It left the passenger seat truly empty.  
  
Instead of paying attention, Dean fiddled with the gum in his pocket. The minister, or whatever, said a few more words and then everyone gathered around for their final goodbyes. Some people threw flowers. Some of the flowers were weeds in Dean’s opinion. One person threw a shiny silver bullet. Dean glared at the bullet and hoped that neither Sam nor Adam noticed it.  
  
Dean pulled out the gum and unwrapped it. The smell of cinnamon burst forth, Sam and Adam turned to him. He pulled out a piece and passed it to Adam. He repeated the action for Sam. Then he pulled a final one out and put it in his mouth. He began to chew it.  
  
He hated cinnamon, but he chewed it.  
  
He motioned for his brothers to do the same. They did. They usually did what he asked. They’d always been pretty easy to look after. Sam was a nerd and Adam was a dork, so neither really enjoyed breaking rules.  
  
Dean was probably the toughest of the three to raise. He did most of his raising by himself though.  
  
He tossed the rest of the pack into the hole. “May your death smell like how you lived, spicy but complimentingly sweet.” Dean spit the gum into the wrapper and also threw it into the hole.  
  
The rain poured down and Dean felt the weight of the umbrella in his pocket. By then, it didn’t make any sense to open it. Dean was soaked through.  
  
People patted him on the back. Sam and Adam were each still chewing their pieces of cinnamon gum. They chewed it with more force than was necessary for gum, but it seemed to keep them from crying out the rest of the water from their bodies while people hugged them and were overall sympathetic.  
  
Dean almost didn’t hear it; he was listening more to his brothers’ weepy breaths and trying to ensure that neither of them burst into tears. That would be simply impossible to deal with, rain and tears and sadness. One would begin to cry and the other would be quick to follow. That was why Dean almost didn’t hear it.  
  
“Your mother was a bitch.” A gruff voice whispered.  
  
Whirling around, Dean caught a large wrist holding a dagger aimed for Adam. “You chose the wrong brother to stab first,” he growled back.  
  
Dean, still holding the wrist, pulled the man off of his balance and elbowed him in the sternum. He spun around, taking the arm with him, feeling the satisfying crack. He then clocked him in the nose. When the man hit the ground, he kicked the blade away from his loose fist. “I don’t know what you were trying to prove, but we’re Winchesters. You cannot get the upper hand on a Winchester.”  
  
The man held his arm to his side and stood up wobbly. He spit on Dean’s already soaked jacket. The reddened spit was almost immediately washed away by the pouring rain. “I wasn’t proving anything.” He ducked forward into Dean’s face. “What were you proving?” He stalked away.  
  
After that, the graveside service disbanded. Some people seemed to want to pat Sam or Adam on the shoulder, but thought better of it. Dean wasn’t going to let anyone touch his brothers after that.  
  
Once most everyone had left, Bobby stepped forward, shook his head, and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You’re already making enemies, boy. That ain’t a good thing.” His eyes looked more tired than angry.  
  
Dean set his jaw and looked away. “People are already our enemies. I’m just making sure that they know what they’re asking for.” He pulled his shoulder away and herded his brothers to the car.  
  
\---  
  
Shut up in his room, Dean pulled out all of his various guns. Some he had inherited from his mother, some from his father. He wasn’t letting his family down because of someone dying. Kate wouldn’t have agreed with Dean slacking off just because she died; she’d expect the same from him as always.  
  
He cleaned his guns with the same care and precision as he usually did. He wiped them down until they were gleaming. He only took pause when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.”  
  
The door swung open enough for Adam to poke his head in. “Are you busy?” His eyes roamed over the various guns and other weapons strewn about.  
  
Dean moved the ones directly beside him on the grease rag so that Adam could come sit next to him. He patted the spot and Adam stepped forward to fill it.  
  
Wringing his hands, they sat in silence. Dean wiped down the barrel of the next gun and Adam mimicked the action with his fingers in fidget. “Will you teach me how to shoot?”  
  
“No.” Dean and Kate had discussed that once. Kate didn’t want Adam mixed up in all of this crap. Dean agreed. He’d spent the majority of his life ensuring that Sam wasn’t pulled into it.  
  
Adam bounced on the bed and let out a childish whine. “But, I need to know how to shoot someone.”  
  
Shifting to look at Adam full-on, Dean narrowed his eyes. “You’re 14. You don’t need to know how to shoot a gun.”  
  
“I’m old enough, Dean. I’m older than you were.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What if someone tries to hurt me again? What if I can’t stop them?”  
  
“That’s what you’ve got me for.” Dean smiled a little. “That’s what an older brother is supposed to do.”  
  
Adam’s eyebrows pulled close. “You won’t be at school with me. You won’t be with me all the time.” His bottom lip trembled. “You’re gonna die too, Dean. Someday, you’re gonna die justly like mom and dad. What will I do then?”  
  
Switching out the gun pieces on the bed with the ones in his hand, Dean put his eyes on the metal. “We aren’t going to worry about that yet. We’re just going to worry about keeping you safe. The easiest way to keep you safe is to keep you out of it.”  
  
“You’re in it,” Adam argued. His eyes lit with a self-righteous fury.  
  
Dean ignored it. He’d dealt with that look in Sam’s eyes more than once. “Sam isn’t.”  
  
Deflating, Adam stared at his hands. He didn’t try to argue anymore. He didn’t try to come up with anymore excuses. Eventually, he sort of tilted over onto Dean’s shoulder and melted into his side. “What are we going to do?”  
  
Dean licked his lips and replaced the last of the weaponry on the rag on the bed. “For now, we rest and see what your mother said in her will. We’re going to honor her last wishes and then we’ll go from there.” He ruffled Adam’s hair.  
  
They sat in silence for a while. Eventually, Adam stood from the bed and padded to the door. “Thank you, Dean.” He stepped through and began to pull it closed, leaving it exactly how he found it, something that he must have unconsciously picked up from Dean or John. “Oh, Dean?”  
  
Blinking, Dean refocused on his half-brother.  
  
“Will you stay in my room tonight?” He stared at Dean’s shoes.  
  
Dean offered a small smile. “Of course.”


	2. First Contract

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 2

Sam had dark circles under his eyes when Dean found him at the dining room table the next morning. That meant that neither of them slept very well. Dean had slept on the floor in Adam’s room, which wouldn’t have been a problem except that Adam kept waking up from nightmares. He wished that they had a larger bed so that Dean could just sleep in the bed with him, but the only bed that fit the ticket was in Kate’s room. They hadn’t even touched the door yet out of respect.  
  
Technically, the official will had already been read. It outlined everything for the funeral and the expenses for the house and Adam’s schooling, a private academy. But with the will, there had been a sealed envelope that was to be read the day after the funeral. That was the letter that the lawyer was bringing around that day.  
  
Adam padded down the stairs rubbing at his eyes, more from sleep deprivation than from crying. Dean wasn’t sure if that was a step up or not. In his own experience, if the horrors were enough to keep him from thinking about the pain, he was solid. He wasn’t sure if that was also true of either of his brothers.  
  
“Hey, I’ll make you some breakfast.” He swung the chair out for Adam. “You want anything Sam?”  
  
Sam turned to look at Dean, surprised, like he hadn’t realized that Dean had come down stairs. “Uh, sure.” He closed his mouth and swallowed, going back to staring off into space.  
  
In silence, like much of their lives as of late, Dean made breakfast and served all of them. He may have made extra bacon for himself, but neither of his brothers was complaining.  
  
“When is Mr. Sadler coming around?” Sam picked at each individual bit of food before eating it. He’d roll a piece of scrambled egg around in circles or slide the bacon back and forth.  
  
Dean tapped at his phone for the calendar app. “He should be here between ten and noon.” He glanced at the clock. It was already five passed nine. “You going to ask him a million questions about being a lawyer again?” Dean didn’t particularly like the man; he was brusque on the verge of rude and his voice was too nasally for Dean to ever think of him as anything more than a frog in disguise.  
  
Hunching into his food, Sam blushed, embarrassed, “No, of course not.”  
  
Sharing a look with Adam, Dean was glad that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t entirely believe Sam.  
  
Sam was going to law school. He was probably going to get a pretty hefty scholarship given his academic excellence at the private academy. Even if he didn’t, Kate’s will had a clause that set aside a healthy portion of her life insurance funds for Sam’s schooling. Luckily, it was worded in a way that made it applicable to college; she hadn‘t had the chance to edit her will since Sam graduated.  
  
Continuing with their silent meal, Dean’s brain got away from him. He thought about his lack of educational aspirations. It had never been a part of the equation and it continued to slide further and further out of the realm of possibility. He’d finished up his GED at 17, so he could step in and be Kate’s bodyguard once his father died. Sam and Adam had continued at the Shurley Academy while Dean fell even further into his father’s footsteps.  
  
It had meant that Dean and Kate grew a sort of personal respect for each other. Dean was, in many ways, a father figure to Adam already because Dean had always watched Sam and Adam while Kate and John had ran around working. It was just how life had gone. Kate worked for the government, closely with the military as an weapons system analyst. Dean often followed around after her, but most of her work was on the computer, in manila folders, or in private meetings that he sat just outside the door from.  
  
A knock at the door pulled Dean from his rampant thoughts. He glanced at the clock and was surprised to find that it was pushing ten thirty. His food was entirely cold and, in his mind, inedible. He dumped it in the garbage on his way to the door.  
  
Picking up his shotgun from the entryway table, Dean tucked it into the back of his waistband then peeked out the peep hole. Three built men were standing on the front step. They were holding manila folders and checking the address on the door.  
  
In his years of working at Kate’s bodyguard, he’d had to make many split second decisions of people. Never once had he judged a character wrong. One woman, Ruby, gave him a run for his money. He’d known that she was bad news, but after 3 years of nothing he’d begun to trust her. In the end, she had been bad news. His lesson had been to trust his gut.  
  
These men, his gut told him, were not here as threats. He opened the drawer and pulled out his dagger. His slipped it into his ankle holster under his pants leg. He’d still take precautions.  
  
He unlocked and opened the door. “Yes?”  
  
The men looked surprised by him. The oldest looked down at his file folder then back up. “Dean?”  
  
Dean gave a curt nod but did nothing else. They stood in an awkward silence until Adam pushed his way under Dean’s arm to see out the door. “What do you want?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean pushed Adam back into the house. Adam stood up on his tip-toes to look over Dean’s protective arm at the men.  
  
“Zachariah must be late.” Another of the men spoke. He had bronzed hair and a mischievous glint to his eye.  
  
Dean snorted. “Would you expect anything else?”  
  
“May we come in?” The first man spoke again. “I am Michael; this is Gabriel and Castiel. We’re here under the wishes of your late mother, Kate.”  
  
“Step-mother.” Dean provided instantly.  
  
“Mother.” Adam insisted almost directly into his ear. He made a short whining sound when Dean used his elbow to nudge him back away from the door and the men.  
  
Dean smiled pleasantly. “I’m sorry, but until I have proof of this, I will not be letting you into the house. If you must, please wait on the bench out here on the porch.” He began to close the door.  
  
The oldest man, probably in his late thirties, thrust out a piece of paper. “We have the contract signed by your – by Kate Milligan.”  
  
Huffing, Dean paused. He braced his foot and knee against the back of the door in case they tried to push their way in. By then, Sam had come to see what was going on. He pressed his body against the inside of the heavy door, too, but remained hidden from the visitors. Dean silently took pride in his brother.  
  
He took the paper and read it over. It was a personal security contract. He would still have been skeptical except that he’d seen Kate draft up the contract. She wrote and rewrote that contract over the course of almost 2 years. When he had asked, she’d only told him that it was important.  
  
Her signature on the bottom was in her favorite purple pen. It didn’t look forced or strained. It didn’t have the dot over the second ‘i’, just like Kate was wont to do. He squinted at it and then squinted at the men. Looking over at Sam, he asked him silently for his opinion.  
  
Sam shrugged, but gestured to the gun he had in his own waist band. Between the two of them, they could probably take the three men. It was their turf; they knew where the hidden weapons were and how the house was laid out.  
  
It would be a fairly even fight.  
  
Taking in a long breath, Dean stepped aside and let the men in. “I expect you to be respectful of our house.”  
  
The eldest spoke for all of them. “Of course.”  
  
\---  
  
Sitting in the living room with three men was super awkward. Adam kept asking questions that the men either talked around or answered with absolutely no detail. It was bugging Dean to no end. But, the only thing worse was that the third man had yet to speak. He was the closest to Dean’s age and spent most of the silence looking around the living room. He stared at the portrait of Kate that hung over the fireplace and then he’d pick somewhere else to stare. Dean was only mildly weirded out until the man decided to stare at him.  
  
Then Dean was seriously weirded out.  
  
Another knock on the door rang out. It was almost eleven thirty. Dean was going to kill Zachariah, personally, brutally.  
  
The three men stood but did not move. Dean moved to the door, taking Adam with him.  
  
Adam tried to wring Dean’s hand from his wrist but gave up soon enough. He waved with his other hand when Dean opened the door to reveal Zachariah. “Hi Zach, Sam promises not to ask you a bunch of weird questions.”  
  
Huffing, Sam sunk further into the armchair he was occupying.  
  
“Mr. Sadler, I hope you have an explanation as to why these men arrived at this address this morning. Otherwise, they will be escorted out.” Dean narrowed his eyes at Zachariah.  
  
“Hello to you too, Dean.” He strode into the living room. “Yes, hello Adam, Sam, Gentlemen.” He opened his briefcase of the coffee table and pulled out a sealed envelope. “Close the door and come listen to your mother’s last words.”  
  
Dean grumbled a small, “Step-mother,” which was duly ignored.  
  
Zachariah read aloud. “To be read the day after my funeral. Dear boys,-”  
  
Another knock interrupted. Dean growled and stalked over to the door. “Today was not a day to invite guests.” He peaked through the peephole then pulled the door open. “Get in here, sit down, and shut up.”  
  
Bobby gave him the stink eye. “Don’t you talk to me like that, boy. I’m here as moral support and you better accept that.” He shed his coat and hung it on a hook near the coat, obviously intending on staying.  
  
“Sorry, sir.” Dean closed and locked the door. He flipped all three locks on the door.  
  
Bobby walked over to the gathering and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Don’t mind me, Zachariah; do continue.” Bobby trusted Zachariah about as much as Dean did, that is to say not at all.  
  
Rejoining the group, Dean stood at the arm of Adam’s chair. He was on guard, arms crossed to hide his fingers twitching for his gun. Too many people were in his house. Too many untrustworthy people were in his house.  
  
Dean glared around the circle of people. The three men had taken their seats again on the couch and Sam and Adam were each in an armchair across the table from the men. Dean stood between them but, admittedly, closer to Adam. Bobby stood at one end of the coffee table and Zachariah at the other. He caught the gaze of the man that had yet to talk.  
  
His blue eyes were scary bright and filled with a question that Dean couldn’t read. It made him curious about the man though.  
  
“Dear boys,  
  
“I know that it may come as a surprise, but I am not surprised by an early death. My work makes just as many friends as enemies. That in mind, I have made a decision that each of you need a bodyguard. Do not worry about the cost; it is covered. I have drafted the contracts myself and, Dean, you can look them over if you like. They’re all me, even my favorite purple pen for the signature.”  
  
Dean reached for the paper on the table that Michael had given him. It was certainly Kate’s now.  
  
“I’ve made the arrangements with the academy that Adam’s bodyguard will stay with him there. Sam, honey, I wish you the best in California. Dean, don’t kill him.”  
  
Sam and Adam chuckled at the sentiment, but the three men across the table sat straighter and looked at Dean with a skeptical gaze. Zachariah repeated the line, twice, for emphasis.  
  
“Dean, don’t kill him. I understand that you may not think that you need a bodyguard, but everyone needs someone to look after them. I don’t want any of you alone anytime soon.  
  
“Adam, I’ve contracted Michael for your protection. Dean, he was in the military for several years before being assigned as personal detail to various heads of state when they arrive in D.C. He is the cofounder of the Guardian Angel Program where these men were hired from.”  
  
Michael smiled and waved a little. He was the oldest of the three men. He had dark hair and darker eyes. Dean could see the military in his posture. He nodded in approval.  
  
“Sam, for you, I’m contracted Gabriel. He wants to be a lawyer, but he enlisted in the military due to familial legacy. He has a weird sense of humor, but I’m sure you’ll react just fine since you’ve dealt with Dean for years. Dean, Gabriel was plucked from the same batch of personal detail guards as Michael. He is well-trained in hand-to-hand combat and will continue to train Sam while they are in California. Sam will not be allowed to go soft.”  
  
Sam glared at Dean, but Dean only shrugged. Sam would most definitely have gone soft.  
  
Gabriel stood and bowed. “A pleasure.” He grinned.  
  
“Castiel was hired to protect Dean.”  
  
Zachariah took a long pause. His eyes darted over the paper a bit. In the vacuum, Dean met Castiel’s eyes and held them.  
  
Clearing his throat, Zachariah continued, “Michael, Gabriel, and Castiel understand the stakes and the terms of their contracts. They will receive appropriate pay from a high-income investment fund set up in the summer of 1993.”  
  
Dean’s mind reeled. That was back when Adam was three. Sam was barely ten. Had this plan been set forth for so long?”  
  
“I wish you well, boys.” Zachariah folded up the letter and slid it back into the envelope. He put the letter in the center of the coffee table and collected some forms from the three men. “I bid you all, good day.” He picked up his briefcase and showed himself out, leaving Dean staring down three men sitting on his couch.


	3. Afforded Silence

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 3

“I really don’t need a guardian.” Dean threw more clothes into his suitcase. The house was under some weird contract that meant that it would be Adam’s until he was 26, but that didn’t mean that Dean had to stay there.  
  
Sam had left for California with Gabriel two days prior and the house already felt too empty. He was seeing Michael and Adam off to school then hopefully seeing Castiel off as well, because Dean did not need a bodyguard.  
  
He was a bodyguard. His father was a bodyguard. His mother was killed by a hitman. He knew his way around a gun and around a dark world. He was Kate’s bodyguard for seven years.  
  
Castiel could just leave.  
  
Dean turned to see Castiel standing at the door, watching, silently. The man still hadn’t spoken. It was somewhat eerie. Dean wasn’t sure why Kate hand-picked this man to guard him, but he was beginning to think that some of the reason was practical joke. He sucked in then let out a long breath. “Look, Castiel, I don’t need you. You certainly don’t need me messing up your… whatever. You can go with me to send off Adam, set a good example and all that, then we’ll part ways and be clear as rain.”  
  
Not speaking, never speaking, Castiel shook his head.  
  
Growling, Dean turned and continued to pack. “Will you stop looking a gift horse in the fucking mouth and take what I’m offering? You get paid for doing nothing for as long as your contract runs. There is no bad side.” He stuffed the clothes into the case and forced the zipper closed.  
  
“I honor my word.”  
  
The voice that left Castiel’s mouth trickled over Dean’s spine, not in the way a horrible accent did or the way a sleaze-ball’s prominent s’s did, but in the way the water in a hot shower would drip from his hair and surprise him as it rolled down his back. He shivered and swallowed the extra spit that pooled in his mouth.  
  
Those were the first words that Castiel had ever spoken to Dean. Dean turned to retort back, but Castiel was no longer standing in the door jamb.  
  
\---  
  
Adam had taken to Michael like Sam would have taken to a dog. It was kind of funny to watch Michael bound around like he was also 14. He never spoke down to Adam, nor did he needlessly speak up to him.  
  
All around, Dean approved of Michael. Dean rolled his eyes at the thought of Gabe and his sweets and cocky eyebrows. He and Sam couldn’t have left fast enough; Gabe was annoying. Sam seemed to enjoy it, citing that he was a lot like Dean. Dean did not agree.  
  
Dean smiled at Adam. The train was due to pull into the station any minute. The station had always been a familial event. Sam and Adam had always been going to the boarding school and Dean and Kate had always come to wish them well. Dean could barely remember the years that he had went to the academy as well.  
  
It was a private institution run by Chuck Shurley. It was for the sons and daughters of diplomats and senators in America. It had top surveillance and even better cybersecurity. If there was anywhere that Dean trusted Adam to be safe other than by him, it was Shurley Academy.  
  
“Make sure to send me everything about the girls you find. I want to do full background checks before you hold their hands.” Dean ruffled Adam’s hair.  
  
Adam slapped at his hands. “Stop that. They all go through rigorous screening before they can even attend.” He tried to fix his hair despite his lack of mirror by rolling his eyes as far up as possible and tapping down his bangs.  
  
The screening process always concerned Dean more than it assured him. Adam was John’s son and, while Adam didn’t know the extent of it, John was a hitman for many years then a bodyguard. Dean often was baffled by Adam’s acceptance to the academy on those terms. Kate had always reassured him that it was because John was not listed as Adam’s father; instead, Adam’s documented father was unknown.  
  
Castiel cocked his head at Dean’s serious silence.  
  
Furrowing his eyebrows, Dean pushed his lips together and glared at Castiel from the corner of his eye. He was not fond of the way that Castiel could read him so well. It was like the bodyguard could read his mind.  
  
The train began to roll in and that seemed to distract Castiel enough that Dean didn’t feel the scrutiny of his blue eyes.  
  
Dean returned his attention to Adam. “Make me proud.” It was slightly edited from usual ‘make us proud’.  
  
Adam lurched forward and hugged Dean. “I will, Dean, I promise.” He grinned up. “And I’ll make Sam proud, too.”  
  
Nodding, Dean patted his back and then stepped back. He nodded once to Michael. “You keep yourself together. Keep him in one piece.”  
  
“I will.” Michael herded Adam onto the train, carrying both Adam’s and his own luggage.  
  
Dean tried to estimate how many weapons that Michael had been able to pack in his modest suitcase, but quickly realized that no matter how many he decided upon, he wouldn’t be satisfied. “Call me if you need anything.” He waved at Adam and Michael through the open window. The train pulled away about as quickly as it had come in. Dean waited until he could no longer see it in the tunnel.  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
Dean catalogued the second sentence that Castiel ever spoke to him. It was something that was somewhat surreal. Castiel and the other bodyguards had lived with them for just under a month and Castiel had never spoken.  
  
He had annoyingly followed Dean to the grocery store. He had followed Dean to the movies. He had sat across from him when he spent a day at the library; Castiel’s presence had turned his would-be peaceful afternoon into a glarefest, Dean glaring at Castiel, Castiel glaring back.  
  
And now, over the course of two hours, he had spoken to Dean twice.  
  
With his hand nestled into the door handle, Dean growled, head shooting up to glare at Castiel over the hood of the car. “What is with you, man? You spend an entire month mute then you go and start talking to me like you weren’t completely fucking silent since we first met.” He dropped his hand from the door handle and clenched it in frustration.  
  
“We cannot afford not to speak anymore. You never gave me any reason to speak to you; I figured that you did not want me to speak.” Castiel waited, completely still, on the other side of the car, like Dean’s outburst had been expected.  
  
Dean glared harder, leaning forward with the intensity. “I’ve asked you questions. I’ve tried to talk with you, get to know you.”  
  
Cocking his head slightly, Castiel blinked. “Have you? You’ve only asked me yes/no questions and much of your vocal communication has either been growls or grumbles, hardly amenable to friendly conversation.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean tugged the car door open and deposited himself into the seat. He reached across and opened Castiel’s door. As much as he just wanted to drive off without him, Dean wasn’t that rude. “I asked you where you were from.”  
  
“No, Sam did.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrows crinkled in thought. They’d been eating dinner the first night when the question came up. When he thought hard about it, Dean could see Sam swallowing a bite of potatoes before turning and asking the question of Castiel. Castiel had turned to Dean with an open but neutral expression.  
  
Only now was Dean beginning to understand that the expression was a question of permission.  
  
Dean grumbled into the steering wheel, “Did you not think that I would want to know?”  
  
“You showed no preference to either knowing or not.”  
  
Being jerkier with the steering wheel than usual, Dean took a tight turn at the next light, taking another way home. He often changed up his return routine, so he wouldn’t be followed.  
  
Castiel, looking out the window, seemed to linger on the street sign before nodding his approval of Dean’s actions. “Would you like to ask your questions now?”  
  
Thinking about it, Dean tried to come up with a question worth asking. Adam had asked Michael everything from favorite color to favorite actor to favorite fairground treat. Sam had asked Gabriel about his interest in being a lawyer and whether or not he’d want to take or only audit Sam’s classes. Usually it had led to geeking out over law courses. Dean didn’t really have a good question.  
  
“Perhaps, I should start?”  
  
Dean flicked his eyes to Castiel. It had never occurred to him that Cas may have questions for him. He completely disregarded the concept. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”  
  
Nodding, Castiel stared through the front windshield. “When will you stop telling me to leave?”  
  
The undertones of grief were what caught Dean more off-guard than the question. He had expected something blunt and somewhat socially awkward given everything he already knew about the man, but the grief was what came flying out of left-field despite that Dean was playing bowling (or something equally manly and indoors). Dean huffed out, defeated. “Honestly?”  
  
Castiel nodded.  
  
The entire situation annoyed him to fucking tears. Kate had trusted him with her life for seven years and then turned around and gave him a bodyguard, something that made it awfully clear how little she thought of his abilities. It was like she had slapped him from the grave. He shrugged, non-committal, “Never, but don’t take it personally.” He grinned at Castiel.  
  
Mouth turned down at the very edges, Castiel shook his head minutely. “How else am I supposed to take it? You trust my brothers with your brothers and yet you refuse to-”  
  
“Wait!” Dean slammed his foot onto the break, a rather inopportune time since it meant that the red smart car had to veer around him. “You’re all brothers?”  
  
“This is not the best place to stop you car. Please keep driving.” Though Castiel’s voice was steady, he was flicking his eyes around the mostly empty highway. “Drive, Dean, or I will insist on driving from now on. I don’t think you’d like that.”  
  
Dean’s mouth turned down at the nonchalant threat. He slammed his foot onto the accelerator in response. The tires spun for a moment before finding traction and jerking them forward. Castiel careened backward into his seat with an ‘oomph’ and grimaced at Dean.  
  
Holding onto the arm rests with white-knuckled hands, Castiel growled, “This is not a safe way to drive.”  
  
Grinning, Dean cut over two lanes and took a loop in a four-leaf clover interchange. He took all four loops and ended in the same left-hand lane as he had begun in. He smiled wide at Castiel, baring his gums too. He gunned it passed the exit to his house. He weaved his way into the construction zone for the next, unfinished off-ramp. Chuckling at Castiel’s panic, he drove off of the ramp’s edge, through the wooden barriers.  
  
Castiel grabbed his seat and stared out the windshield. He didn’t yell or verbally express his fear. Dean had to give him some credit; he was obviously scared but keeping his cool.  
  
The car landed on the top of the parking garage and Dean did two donuts before racing down the ramps. He skidded over an aisle on the second floor then drove fast enough over the speed humps on the first level that the car went airborne.  
  
He gunned it through a traffic light that just turned yellow.  
  
Beside Dean, Castiel had taken to almost tantric breathing. In, out, out. In, out, out.  
  
Dean spun the car and slid it, drifting expertly, between the two cars already parked along the street. He put the gear into park and slapped his thighs. He turned off the car and tugged the keys from the ignition. He stepped out and leaned in through the window. “I’m gonna head inside and keep packing. You,” he looked over Castiel, frigid and maintaining the same breath scheme, “you just, keep on keeping on.”  
  
He turned, leaving Castiel to gather his bearings. Hopefully, by the time Castiel had recovered, Dean would be long gone.


	4. Cat and Mouse and Honeybuns

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 4

Dean pulled the non-descript white Toyota into the alley way. He exited and grabbed all of his belongings, two duffle bags and a plastic convenience store bag. He checked over the footwells to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything easily traceable. He’d hotwire a new car in the morning.  
  
Slamming the door, he trudged to the end of the alley, boots crunching on wayward trash and debris. He walked over to the by-the-hour sex hotel. It was a place that wouldn’t ask questions. He paid for 48 hours and made his way up to the room.  
  
Despite his lumbered appearance and his heavy boots, his feet made no sound on the creaky stairs. He passed a few scantily clad women; one had a tattoo of a gun on her partially exposed chest. Dean immediately wanted to identify the gun, figure out what kind it was, what caliber, if he had ever shot one; but he was taught better than to stare at a woman’s bosom. He tucked his chin and walked past her.  
  
He shoved the key into the door and waited for the click before entering. He shut the door swiftly behind him. Tucking his duffles under the sink by the bathroom door, he spilled the contents of the plastic convenience bag onto the bed. Everything was packaged, so he didn’t worry about the contamination.  
  
Rifling through it, he picked up the can of Spaghetti O’s and tore the flap from the box of plastic spoons. He ate the memory-charged soup cold.  
  
It reminded him of long nights with a crying baby, night after night, in different seedy motels and hourly-rate places with his father. The infant had been Dean’s responsibility. The guns had been Dean’s responsibility. Dean had been navigator, responsible for when they got lost or were late to a meet-up. It was how his upbringing went.  
  
Kate Milligan had been one of the best things that had happened for them. It meant that Sam wouldn’t have to do the same things that Dean did. He learned a gun, of course he did. He was heir of half of the Campbell Assassin Legacy. But Sam got to have a living breathing mother.  
  
It had been nice to give the child-rearing over to Kate.  
  
Dean reached over into the dumped convenience store crap and fingered lightly over a pack of gum. He had a small collection of cinnamon gum accumulating in his duffle, but, when he saw another pack, he felt the need to pick it up and pay the fee for it. It was pretty useless though; he didn’t chew gum.  
  
It didn’t take him long to finish his dinner. It was all cold. It consisted of 4 cans, one of Spaghetti O’s, one of green beans, one of carrots, and one of apple pie filling. It was horrible to say that it reminded him of his childhood, because that would only stir up pity and drama. It did though, and it was weirdly comforting.  
  
In that comfort, he spread himself out on the left side of the bed, the right side still littered with convenience store snacks, and went to sleep.  
  
\---  
  
He was awoken by a frantic knock on the door. It was demanding and annoying. It was probably some drunk person or couple who didn’t know what door they were pounding on. Dean pulled the gun from his open duffle, within reach, then rose from the bed’s itchy comforter.  
  
Squeezing and releasing the handle of the gun, Dean refamiliarized himself with the weight in a matter of nanoseconds then positioned himself at the door in a way that could facilitate attack.  
  
Dean opened the door. In a flash, someone entered the room and closed the door behind their coat tails. Dean spun with the gun raised, the barrel lined up perfectly with collarbone, pressed into the crisp oxford shirt.  
  
“Hello Dean.”  
  
Mouth falling open, Dean stared at Castiel. “I thought I shook you back in Memphis. It’s been weeks.”  
  
Bringing his hand up slowly, Castiel wrapped his long fingers around the barrel of the gun pressed to his chest. He moved it slowly and Dean’s grip slackened. “You shook me for about three days. I’ve been tailing you ever since.”  
  
“Three days? That’s practically nothing. What gave me away?” Dean huffed in irritation. He finally let his gun hand fall back to his side. As much as Castiel and his bloodhound, detective skills annoyed the fuck out of Dean, the guy wasn’t that bad and certainly wasn’t there to hurt Dean.  
  
Castiel looked around the room. There was one bed and a small room with a toilet and shower. The sink was set into a countertop just outside of the bathroom door and the flat surface doubled at the left-hand nightstand. He squinted at some of the details before rounding his gaze back to Dean. “By luck, I happened to see you hot wiring the car. It was not so much my detective skills but my ability to be in the right place at the right time.”  
  
Scoffing, Dean trudged back over to the bed and sat on the side he had recently vacated. He tapped his phone and it lit up the room. It was only 1:44 in the morning, so he decided to try to go back to sleep.  
  
“Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Castiel stepped forward but made no other indication toward Dean.  
  
Slitting open and eye, Dean peered at him. “It’s something other than the usual ‘I gave my word to your step-mother to protect you’ bullshit?”  
  
Castiel only stared back. His eyes were oddly lit, almost glowing in the reflected neon from through the cracks in the battered blinds.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean settled back into his arm, bent at the elbow and tucked under his head. “Whatever it is can wait until morning. I’m tired from all this hide and seek.”  
  
Crossing the room, Castiel shoved all of the crap on the right side of the bed over, into the middle. He flopped onto the comforter, face down. He didn’t bother to undress or even take off his jacket. Dean figured it must be the reason the damn thing was so wrinkly.  
  
Between them, the packages crinkled and clicked together as they both got situated. It was a love hotel; there wasn’t exactly room in the bed for two people.  
  
Dean was just about subconscious when Castiel’s grumble filtered through to him, muffled slightly by the pillow. “If you’re so tired of this game, then I suggest you just give up.”  
  
Laughing, Dean smiled at the speckled ceiling. “Not a chance.”  
  
\---  
  
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Dean was pacing at the end of the bed.  
  
“You do recall that you told me that whatever it was could wait until morning.” Propped against the headboard, Castiel still occupied the right side of the bed. He absently fingered through the snacks and juice packs that had been nestled between them in sleep. He picked up a honeybun and noisily removed its wrapper.  
  
Dean ground his teeth together. Castiel had to know that family was a different matter.  
  
Chewing at a pace more conducive to a cow than a 27-year-old soldier, Castiel stared at the wall. “I didn’t want to anger you any further.”  
  
“You did an excellent job of that.” Dean snapped as he snatched up a child-size box of cereal and tearing the top flap of the box back. With his teeth and one hand, he opened the inner bag and used his tongue to grab up a few Froot Loops. He took a deep breath, crunching on the cereal loudly.  
  
Castiel stood from the bed, having finished his honey bun in about 6 large bites, and moved to the bathroom. “I’ll be taking a shower.” He spun in the door frame, his trench coat billowed around him. It was a surreal scene, like the man was too big for the small bathroom. With his head backlit by the light fixture above the mirror, he seemed to take on an omnipotent composure. “I suggest you should wait for me, so I can share the rest of my findings.” Turning, he closed the door.  
  
Snorting, Dean swiveled around on one foot and landed his butt on the bed. It was just like Castiel to withhold information in an attempt to control him. Part of Dean wanted to defy him, grab his bags and leave, but the part of him that loved his brother chilled him from the base of his spine.  
  
He understood, actually. He understood why Castiel had to do this. It was the only way to get Dean to pay him any mind at all. Dean understood it so well because it was the sort of thing his father had used on his work buddies, his companions, and his sons.  
  
Lifting the box of half-empty Froot Loops to his mouth, he shook out a healthy dose of the sugary treat into his mouth. It wouldn’t be enough to get him through to lunch, but it would tide him over until Castiel had deliberately and begrudgingly offered the rest of his knowledge about Sam and Gabe’s disappearances.  
  
Dean opened his mouth wide and snapped it shut on the Froot Loops there, enjoying the loud crunch sound that it made. He finished his crunching, swallowed, and glanced back over at the convenience store goodies. He used his hand to swipe the batch around looking for something that could chase the Froot Loops. He decided on the fruit snacks.  
  
From the shower, Dean could hear a faint almost growling sound. He popped a gummy into his mouth and squinted at the bathroom door, like it would help him hear better or something. Intrigued, he stood and stepped forward, eventually pressing his ear to the door. He popped a few more gummies into his mouth, happy they weren’t as loud of a snack as the Froot Loops had been.  
  
Through the door, Dean heard singing.  
  
And not just singing, but gruff, okay-sounding singing. It was an old song, something that Dean recognized but couldn’t make out the words enough to complete in his head. Dean chuckled. What kind of soldier-turned-bodyguard would sing in the shower? Apparently Dean’s.  
  
The song came to an end about 15 seconds after Dean’s gummies. Dean hoped to hear another song, hopefully recognize it more than the last, but, instead, the water cut off.  
  
Is it weird that the water cutting off was the moment that it really hit Dean that Castiel was naked on the other side of the door? His face reddened at the thought. Not that he was embarrassed; nope, not embarrassed at all.  
  
He raced across the room, collecting the Froot Loop box and wrapper from the bed and moving to deposit them in the wastebasket. He snickered at what was already in the wastebasket, 5 honeybun wrappers; it would seem that Castiel must’ve had an early breakfast.  
  
Dropping his trash, Dean looked over the food on the bed. Castiel had eaten all of the honeybuns.  
  
When the door to the bathroom opened, it let a great deal of steam into the room. Castiel emerged in much the same fashion he had entered, billowing coat, serious expression, and clothed in his usual clothing even the trenchcoat.  
  
“Do you ever wash your clothes?” Dean did laundry once every two weeks or so, stopping at a laundromat and feeding quarters into the little machines. Usually, he’d spend a few extra to play the Namco arcade game that came with the territory.  
  
Castiel looked down at his clothes with a peculiar glint in his eye, like he hadn’t even considered it.  
  
Part of Dean wondered if Castiel would look up and tell him something to the effect of ‘Why would I wash my coat’. In Dean’s limited experience, it was a perfectly logical assumption.  
  
“Usually, my job is rather stationary and I would wash my clothes every 3 days or so. Being you’re bodyguard has been more of a challenge.”  
  
Dean puffed a bit with pride.  
  
“Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve washed my clothes.” He leaned into his shoulder and sniffed it. “I assume it is probably time for a wash.” The man resembled a toddler more than a killer.  
  
Laughing lightly, Dean drew Castiel’s attention from his self-assessment. “Okay, how about you change and we’ll go do some laundry. I’m sure between your stuff and mine we could put together a full load.” Dean crossed to the bed and began to replace the snacks into the plastic bag.  
  
“I don’t have a change of clothes.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Dean continued to pack his things, retrieving his dagger from under his pillow and a pistol from the side table drawer.  
  
Probably in an effort to seem useful, Castiel grabbed the handles of the weapons duffle under the sink counter and swung it onto the bed, within reach of Dean so he could replace the items he was collecting from around the room. “I mean that I don’t have any other clothes.”  
  
Dean paused with another, smaller handgun gripped to his palm, pulled from behind the television. “You have a bag. You telling me you don’t have any clothes in that?”  
  
“Only weapons.” Castiel said lightly with a little one-shoulder shrug.  
  
“Oh.” Dean put the last gun in his bag and zipped it closed. “Okay, uh, I don’t want to know how you used to do laundry.” He held up a hand, palm out toward Castiel, in a ‘stop’ gesture, not that the man had gone to explain himself or anything; it was purely precautionary. “How about I lend you some clothes?”  
  
Castiel scrunched his face up at the idea.  
  
“Do you have a better idea?” Dean asked, one eyebrow higher than the other. He swung one bag onto his shoulder and gestured to the other.  
  
Other than unscrunching his face, Castiel did little to imply any agreement. He looked more resigned than anything else, shoulders drooping and tired eyes landing heavily on Dean’s bag of clothes.  
  
“Okay then.”


	5. Laundromat(s come up in all of my DCBBs)

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 5

It became habit. Each time that Castiel would catch up with Dean, they’d do laundry. It was nice, not that Dean would ever say it out loud. Castiel would pop up with an explanation as to how he found Dean and then they’d do laundry. Dean enjoyed it.  
  
They’d change thirty dollars into coins at the quarter machine and spend the afternoon munching on vending machine food, playing Pac-Man, and looking over files and reports hoping they were getting closer to Sam and Gabe. Honestly, though, almost three weeks had gone by with little progress. Honestly, Dean’s clothes were cleaner than they had been in years.  
  
“I think we need to go further East.”  
  
“Why?” Dean pointed at the map. “Do you not get the California is here,” jab, “and ‘further East’ is the wrong direction?” From his position hunched over the map at a booth style table at a laundromat in Oklahoma, Dean tilted his head to glare up at Castiel.  
  
Relaxed as usual, that is to say not at all, Castiel sat rigidly across from him, sipping a can of Canada Dry. “If I kidnapped someone, I’d move them as far from where I’d snatched them as possible.” He placed his sweating can on the map over where Virginia, Missouri, and Tennessee meet; when he lifted it again, it left a damp ring on the paper. “I’d say here.”  
  
“Why there? Do you have some sixth sense I don’t know about?”  
  
Castiel sipped his drink again. “You don’t know me Dean.” His eyes flicked up from the map and trained on Dean.  
  
Crossing his arms, Dean leaned back into the plastic booth. “I know more about you than you think I do.”  
  
“Not as much as I know about you.”  
  
Dean couldn’t argue that, but he wasn’t about to admit defeat. “Alright then. Tell me about yourself.”  
  
“I like ginger ale.”  
  
“I knew that.”  
  
“I like trenchcoats.”  
  
“I figured.”  
  
“I like-”  
  
“Honeybuns.” Dean interrupted proudly. “You love honeybuns. They’re your favorite snack. In fact, you like anything with honey. If there is a tea with honey, you buy that. If there are honey packets with the sugars, you use that instead.” He grinned at his triumph.  
  
Castiel’s face simply remained blank. It was the closest to shook that Dean had ever seen him.  
  
“You also like honey-scented soap. If the hotel soap is honey-scented, you use it. If not, you use mine. Which annoys me, by the way. How much shampoo do you even need to use? I’m running out four times as fast. You only need like a dollop.” Dean froze when Castiel’s hand touched his; it was brief, like it was meant to be a comfort but it only confused Dean. He wasn’t in need of comfort. He was fine. He slowly panned his eyes back to Castiel’s face, hoping the answer lay there.  
  
He looked sad.  
  
The touch wasn’t supposed to comfort Dean; it was supposed to be a comfort to Castiel.  
  
Dean wasn’t good with the touchy-feelies. He’d been raised to have a healthy layer of space between himself and everyone else. He’d been taught to have tough skin and a rough exterior, not to let anyone close.  
  
Sometimes, this thing he had going with Castiel scared him. The guy wasn’t related him. He wasn’t someone that John would trust and he wasn’t someone that Dean would let himself seem vulnerable to. And yet, that is exactly what happened every few days. Every few days Castiel would catch up to him by using a weakness he’d discovered or a trick he’d brought with him from another job. Dean was always vulnerable to Castiel and it bothered him that the weird friendship they’d created was so one-sided in that regard.  
  
With that imbalance in mind, he took Castiel’s hand and let the man squeeze it and look away with wet eyes. They didn’t talk; they just sat.  
  
In the silence, Dean decided that he needed to learn more about Castiel and, he glanced down at the map for a moment, probably head East.  
  
\---  
  
He had stared at the police radio for so long it had begun to blur. Dean picked up his Slurpee from the cup-holder and took a long drag. He spluttered when a rush of super sweet liquid hit the roof of his mouth and went down the wrong pipe. He peered into the cup with one eye and sighed. It wasn’t even half-frozen slush anymore.  
  
A thud on the roof stole his attention from the drink. In a swift movement, he replaced at the melted Slurpee in the cup-holder and drew the gun from the other.  
  
A figure jumped to the ground on the passenger side of the car. Dean immediately recognized the dark hair and tan trenchcoat, even in the dim light of the yellowed street lamp through the autumn tree. The more Dean looked at him; the more stunning he seemed. His pointed nose and cheekbones were highlighted and the stubble on his face looked subtly rough. And his eyes, damn, they were like-  
  
“I’ll just wait here then.” Castiel’s deadpan filtered through the window, muted but unmistakably Castiel’s.  
  
Blushing, Dean scrambled to unlock the car door. “Sorry.”  
  
Castiel didn’t respond so much as grunt.  
  
“Maybe this will make you feel better.” Dean reached behind the passenger seat, inadvertently putting his face next to Castiel’s shoulder. So close that Dean could begin to make a thread count. Swallowing, Dean moved back into his own seat, bringing with him a bag from 7-11. From within, he proffered a honeybun. “Please forgive me.” He pushed his lip out and ducked behind the treat.  
  
Eyes flicking first to Dean and then to the package in his hand, Castiel didn’t seem impressed. He grabbed the offering, but said nothing and didn’t even acknowledge Dean. He proceeded to demolish the honeybun.  
  
“And the Russian Bear is appeased.” Dean huffed a light laugh to himself and his reflection in the far window.  
  
“I am Russian.”  
  
Dean whirled around to see Castiel munching on his honeybun, traces of the glaze on his lips. Averting his eyes, Dean felt heat paint the tips of his ears. He placed his hands of the steering wheel of his current light blue, soccer-mom SUV and stared at the Honda insignia at its center. “That so?”  
  
With a full mouth, Castiel expanded on the subject. “It is. My father was Russian and my mother was from Canada.” He shifted in his seat, tucking the honeybun wrapper in a garbage bag in the back seat. “My brothers and I were born in different places, different fathers but the same mother. My father died when I was very young and my mother brought us back here, to America.”  
  
By then, Dean was focused on the story and his ears had returned to their usual pallor. “Why not to Canada?”  
  
“She didn’t want our grandmother finding us.”  
  
Dean was going to ask another question, but a car pulled up in front of them.  
  
Turning a leveled gaze at Dean, Castiel asked, “So, Dean, why exactly are we sitting on a dirt path just off the highway?”  
  
“Shhhhhhhhhhh.” Dean flailed his arms up to put a finger over Castiel’s lips. “I’m trying to read their lips.”  
  
Ahead of them, two men had stepped out of their truck and were looking around. They each wore all black and one was speaking animatedly into a cellphone at his ear. They didn’t look like the sort of black market dealers that a tried and true gang boss like Lilith would sent to a drug run, but Dean had learned from a young age not to judge by appearances.  
  
He glanced over to Castiel who was looking at the men as well, his brows furrowed in concentration. “I don’t know how you expect to read their lips, if you’re looking at me.” The end of his lips twitched up; it was the closest thing to a smirk that Dean had ever seen on the man’s face.  
  
Dean didn’t get a chance to reply. Another thud sounded on the top of the car. “Did you invite-”  
  
In a flash, Castiel’s hand covered his mouth and from inside his jacket, he pulled a gun. He took his hand from Dean’s face and pulled another from the other side. Brandishing both, he pointed one blindly at the window behind him and the other at the roof of the car, narrowing his eyes in the same direction.  
  
Following his lead, Dean brandished his own weapon from the center console with one hand and pulled a dagger from a holster on his ankle. He aimed his own weapons in much the same fashion as Castiel did.  
  
After a moment, a calm agreement seemed to lull over them. Dean nodded and Castiel’s eyes narrowed in a response. They switched.  
  
Suddenly, their pretzeled limbs moved. Like a single mind, they maneuvered swiftly until Dean had his gun pointed out the far window behind Castiel’s head and the other man mimicked him. The position was more comfortable and both could see where they were shooting.  
  
Dean absently wondered when they’d gotten to the point where they trusted each other like this.  
  
Footsteps came from the roof and a man stepped onto the hood of the car. Castiel swiveled his gun with the movement of the steps and pointed the barrel of his gun directly at the heel of the man on the hood of the SUV. He was easy to see, dark colors against light paint.  
  
The man’s lips moved. Dean couldn’t hear him, maybe his ears were wringing, maybe the man was whispering, maybe the sound of his heart in his ears was too much. Could Castiel hear it? It was really loud, and, at the moment, they were basically pressed together; Dean’s head almost nestled into Castiel’s shoulder so that he could see the window beyond.  
  
Castiel spoke, almost directly into Dean’s ear, “He says we have to go with him.”  
  
\---  
  
Dean paced the room. It was decorated like a sitting room one might find in an old style manor house. There was a floral print, lion-footed chair and two-person settee. The lamps looked like they’d traveled from the past, vintage style but in pristine condition like they were just bought the day before. Castiel leaned against the wall next to the door.  
  
In a burst of frustration, Dean swiped his arm across one of the half circle tables along the wall, knocking over a figurine.  
  
In a graceful movement, Castiel stepped forward, caught it, and replaced it on the tabletop. “Breaking things won’t fix anything.” He pivoted and took his place against the wall again like that was his designated spot.  
  
“I just want to know why we’re here.” Dean stopped pacing and turned to look at Castiel. He shrugged. “I dunno, it’s useless for us to be here.”  
  
Castiel pushed off of the wall and moved toward Dean like he was going to hug him or comfort him but stopped short. Instead, he stood awkwardly in the center of the room, arms still hanging out from his sides like an invitation to embrace.  
  
Part of Dean wanted to take him up on the offer; it would have been nice. It wasn’t in Dean to do that, though. He turned away and traced a finger over the figure that he had knocked over. It was a golden angel statue and it resembled his mother a bit more than he liked.  
  
Not his step-mother, not Kate. His birth mother, Mary Campbell, sole heir of the Campbell Assassin legacy. Supposedly, there were some cousins out there, but they had been disowned years prior. Dean wasn’t entirely sure what for, but he stood by his grandparents’ decision.  
  
Family was such a sore subject with his mother, father, and step-mother dead and Sam missing; Dean wanted to change his train of thought.


	6. Chop Chop

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 6

She sat behind a large desk. It was the kind of desk that couldn’t be moved by just anyone; it took a certain caliber of mover to heft that kind of a solid mahogany masterpiece. It was impressive, almost the size of a twin bed.  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow. That was the kind of desk that would show up in a mediocre quality porn video.  
  
“Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.” She steepled her long fingers. She wore many rings, most bore shimmering gemstones, but her left ring finger was noticeably bare. Her smile was a bit too big, like the joker’s, complete with the sense of dread that spread through anyone who looked at her. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”  
  
Shifting in his chair, Dean tried to seem a little more intimidating. It was hard to do while being stared down by an obviously powerful woman behind a porn desk with six or eight men standing as guards around the room.  
  
Worst of all, Castiel didn’t look bothered at all. He sat at full attention giving off an air of pure threat that just screamed untamable. His hair stood up in an odd fashion that added to his powerful look, adding to him the air of someone who wasn’t entirely sane of mind.  
  
Huffing lightly, Dean deflated; he was nothing like Castiel. Maybe Kate was right; he needed a bodyguard.  
  
“So, I’m Lilith. I’m not nice and I don’t expect you to be nice. However, I do expect you to be respectful, Dean Winchester.” She stood and turned to sit halfway on the desk.  
  
Dean’s head snapped up. “How do you know who I am?” His brusque stance returned full force, his shoulders tight and broadened outward, his nostrils flared.  
  
She laughed a little. “I know who most everyone who is anyone is.” Lilith trailed her fingers down her pant leg. It would have been sultry except that she was most definitely not Dean’s type. Dean liked them rough around the edges with a few too many family issues. He liked them strong and willing to manhandle. The woman had little substance to her and fewer curves. Her teeth were too bright and her hair was an unnatural blonde, given away by her roots. If anything, she was more Sam’s type than his.  
  
Swallowing, Dean took courage in the fact that Castiel was with him, not really as a protector but as back-up. “Well, since I don’t have to introduce myself, why don’t you tell us what we’re doing and get all the dirty work out of the way?” Dean clapped his hands, hoping to have come to the end of the conversation.  
  
“Usually, that would be the case, but, you see, him,” she pointed at Castiel, “I don’t know who he is. And, as I said before, I know who everyone is.” She swung her leg down from the desktop and sauntered around to the front where she leaned against the desk in front of Castiel. She looked him over before pushing further back onto the desk, properly sitting on it. Smirking, she brought a red high heel up to Castiel’s knee and rested her foot there.  
  
Castiel didn’t move.  
  
She seemed surprised at his utter stillness. Dean was also rather impressed, especially since he was sitting a full three feet away and was suffering from an utterly uncomfortable sense of disgust.  
  
Lilith leaned forward, pressing her stiletto heel into Castiel’s knee. “Who are you?”  
  
Saying nothing, Castiel stared back.  
  
She brought a hand to his chin and grabbed it. “You’re adorable.” She moved closer and closer until her lips were less than an inch from Castiel’s. “I want to know everything about you.”  
  
That was disgusting. Hatred boiled in Dean’s stomach. It was much stronger than he had ever anticipated and it annoyed the hell out of him in equal parts as it fueled him. He growled low before taking in a breath and donning a relaxed composure. His dad had been a bodyguard, before that a hitman, and before that a conman; Dean knew how to play this.  
  
“Oh, there isn’t much to know about him.” Dean hadn’t found any wires or cameras in their luxurious holding cell earlier, so he picked a story and ran with it. He just hoped that Castiel would be able to play it up. Castiel had yet to prove any acting ability.  
  
Dean brought his hands up to clasp them behind his head. Lifting one foot up to rest his heal on the porn desk, he crossed his other ankle over the first and reclined in his rigid chair. “I picked him up from a guy out in Missouri. He doesn’t even speak English. I think he’s Russian or something. I keep him around as a guard dog.” He flapped an unconcerned hand toward no one in particular. “I’m pretty sure he understands what I’m saying, but sometimes he just looks at me blankly until I do something like,” he vaulted forward and brought his feet down, planting them on the ground firmly and shoulder-width apart. “Gun,” he made a gun with his hand, “him,” Dean pointed at the man behind him in his right peripheral.  
  
Like Dean had hoped, Castiel pushed off Lilith’s foot and looked for his gun. It had been taken from him, obviously, but he needed to keep the ruse up. After he checked various spots, he looked to Dean then to the man then to Dean. His face was blank, but his motions were accurate. If Dean had been directing it, he would’ve called cut and told the actor to look a bit more distressed or grieved, but it would have to do.  
  
Laughing a little, hoping it wasn’t shaking the way it felt like, Dean motioned to Castiel. “See what I mean, just a point-and-click sort of thing.”  
  
Looking between the two, Lilith pursed her lips. Coming to a conclusion, she stood jerkily and rounded the table; she seemed to be disappointed. Too bad for her, Castiel belonged to Dean; they had a contract and everything.  
  
When had he gotten so possessive? Dean felt a pang somewhere in his chest at the thought of Lilith taking Castiel away from him. She could’ve offered him a hefty price. She could’ve given him a better life. What was he kidding? Castiel would probably have liked to work with someone as powerful as her. She had henchmen. Dean had a bag of weapons and a commitment problem.  
  
Once seated, Lilith perched her elbows on the table, laced her fingers together, and pillowed a tilted head on them. Through a pout made surrealistically horrifying by the sheer size of her mouth, she sighed, “Pity. You would’ve been perfect for me.”  
  
Dean shivered. He took a steadying breath and situated himself for what was probably going to be a negotiation. “So, what are we doing for you?”  
  
\---  
  
“Dean, I don’t like this.” Castiel stood awkwardly at the rear quarter panel of the BMW. “Something is going to go wrong.”  
  
“Only if you keep saying something it going to go wrong.” It was dark and Dean was sitting on the hatch of the car, swinging his legs idly, probably denting the metal of the high-end car. But, it wasn’t his car, so he wasn’t that worried. “I’m sure this will be a simple prisoner exchange.” He tapped his hand against the trunk of the car. Inside was a man that they were supposed to give to Bartholomew’s gang; in return, they were supposed to be getting someone of Lilith’s.  
  
Castiel scanned around for any signs of movement or another car. “I was there Dean; I have ears. She was hiding something important about this thing.”  
  
“Well, there’s no sense worrying about it. What happens, happens.” He gave a small grin.  
  
Stepping forward, Castiel positioned himself between Dean’s legs to get in his face. “You don’t seem to understand the situation you could have put us in.”  
  
Most of Dean’s thinking came to a sudden halt. Castiel was way too close for his blood to flow properly. The man scared him in an exhilarating way. He turned and looked away; he couldn’t concentrate with those blue eyes glaring at him from such a close proximity.  
  
Two of Castiel’s fingers came to his chin and coaxed his head so that Dean was forced to look at him again. Castiel’s face was so close. His nose was almost touching his. “I know what I’m talking about Dean.” His thumb came up to press to the other side of Dean’s jaw. “You should show me some respect.”  
  
Dean almost whined. Not from disgust like he almost had earlier when Lilith had made a very similar gesture to Castiel, but in a too hot to function sort of way. Dean needed air. Since Castiel had blocked his favored routes of escape, he opted for pulling backward from his grip and laying back onto the trunk of the car.  
  
The air shifted and Castiel moved from between Dean’s legs and more of his blood began to flow in its normal directions. It was like all his blood was drawn to the other man as if a magnetic charge pulled it and the rest of Dean to him.  
  
“The constellations are one of my favorite things.” Castiel’s voice had grown soft; perhaps soft wasn’t the right words, since it still sounded like it was coming from the gritty bottom of a mortar and pestle.  
  
Breathing in the cool air of the night, Dean agree. “I’ve always like Orion.” He smiled. “My mother used to tell me stories of the great hunter.”  
  
“My family always used the interpretation of the hopeless fool.” Castiel deadpanned.  
  
Dean laughed. The wind blew and for a moment there was peace.  
  
The moment broke when headlights appeared around a bend in the road ahead. Dean sat up and Castiel turned, his shoes disturbing the gravel under them.  
  
Shielding his eyes, Dean tried to make out the type of car, but the lights prevented it. It stopped but the lights didn’t cut out. The door opened and a voice hollered, “You got Stanley?”  
  
Dean squinted forward. Giving up on seeing the person he was speaking to, Dean patted the hood. “I got someone; don’t know if it’s Stanley. I’m just a freelancer.”  
  
“And who’s that?”  
  
“That’s my trusty sidekick. He no speak English.” It would probably bid them best if they kept up the con for the remainder of their time dealing with anything Lilith related. “How about you bring around your prisoner and show us that you brought a good trade?”  
  
There was huffing and grumbling, but a car door opened and more footsteps in gravel sounded. Two figures emerged before the headlights. One was much smaller than the other, slighter too. As the two got further from the lights, they were easier to discern. A large man, burly from the looks of his strained buttons, escorted a girl. She couldn’t have been more than 10 years old.  
  
Dean looked to Castiel, but Castiel’s blank face was more confused than usual, an eyebrow just a hair out of place that made it different from casually blank. At least Dean wasn’t the only one confused.  
  
The man stopped, he wasn’t holding the girl, but rather had his hand on her shoulder. “Alright, where’s Stanley?”  
  
Hopping down, Dean motioned for Castiel to open the trunk. Once he turned away from the man and the girl, Castiel rolled his eyes.  
  
Castiel opened the trunk and hauled up a man who was mostly limbs. He dropped him to the ground with little grace.  
  
“You Stanley?” Dean asked the lump of man lying on the gravel.  
  
The man nodded. He looked scared shitless. He scrambled to his feet and scampered to the other car, giving the other man and girl a wide berth.  
  
Again shooting a confused look at Castiel, Dean shrugged. “Okay, then.”  
  
They watched as the man tapped the girl’s shoulder gently. “Now, remember, two weeks with your mom then you’ll be coming back. You keep safe, okay?”  
  
She hugged the man. “Of course, Uncle Ralph.” She patted his head. “You,” pat, “keep,” pat, “safe,” pat, “too.” She smiled and skipped away from him. She grinned at Castiel and Dean. “Alrightie, time to go to Mommy’s.”  
  
In a state of shock, Dean watched as the girl headed up to the backseat door. Castiel unlocked it using the fob on the key ring, so she could hop in. Once that door closed, Dean swiveled his head back to ‘Uncle Ralph’. “So, uh, she’s Lilith’s kid?”  
  
The man nodded. “Yep. You must be new. She’s the only thing that Lilith and Bartholomew seem to agree on.” He turned, waving over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you. Maybe I won’t.” He got into the car and drove off.  
  
Dean blinked a few times. “Lilith and Bartholomew have a kid.”  
  
With a similar look of shock, Castiel turned to Dean. “Must’ve been a nasty divorce.”  
  
Nodding, Dean tried to wrap his head around all of it. It was so peculiar. It was unexpected. It was downright strange. “Damn, growing up with two mob bosses as parents must be stressful.”  
  
Castiel turned and deadpanned, “Both of your parents were killers.”  
  
“That’s different.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I dunno, it just is.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever you say.” Castiel’s usual blank face gave away a hint of humor, a curl at the end of his mouth and a crinkle at the edges of his eyes.  
  
Dean huffed. “Anyway, you were wrong about this going wrong. Now, we just have to drop off a little girl and collect the info that Lilith has on Sam, then we’re free to go.” Part of Dean wondered what leaving would entail. Would he try to ditch Castiel again? Would they do the laundry routine again? What was their next move?  
  
“What makes you think she has any viable information?” Castiel shut the trunk and leaned against it.  
  
Feeling the weight of their situation all over again, Dean looked away. “It’s just a hope really. At this point, I’ll take anything.”  
  
Castiel nodded.  
  
The back door of the car swung open. “It’s not getting any earlier. I want to watch Dexter reruns tonight. Chop. Chop.” The girl clapped her hands for emphasis before slamming the door shut.  
  
After that, they hustled to get her back. No doubt her mother would be waiting.  
  
When they arrived back, Lilith ushered her daughter through the door and blocked Dean’s or Castiel’s entrance to the house. She leaned over and spoke one word into Dean’s ear before turning on her heel, entering the house, and closing the door behind her.


	7. All in a Name

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 7

All Lilith really had was a name. It was more than Dean had, so he was rather optimistic. In fact, a name was awesome. He knew exactly who he needed to ask a favor of and that meant driving to Springfield, Illinois.  
  
At least, that’s where Bobby said would be their best chance. Dean rolled up to the campground and made a hard right turn. The pavement under the wheels turned to dirt.  
  
In the passenger seat, Castiel was looking over a map of Illinois. “Why are we here?”  
  
“Just look for an RV with a large antenna.” Dean had leaned forward over the steering wheel to look out the windshield to see the tops of the RVs. He peered at each, unable to deem any of them correct. “I hope Bobby was right about this.”  
  
They continued through the campground. Castiel, in search for the antenna, had situated himself against the window looking out. It was working pretty well for both of them until they hit a good-size rock in the road and each hit their heads against the glass.  
  
Dean had a feeling that it would lead to a headache later.  
  
“What about that one?”  
  
Craning his neck, Dean tried to see what Castiel was pointing at; but he couldn’t from his spot in the car.  
  
When Castiel realized this, he began to give instructions. “Turn right here.”  
  
Maneuvering quickly, they found the RV Castiel had spotted. It was definitely Frank’s. For such a hideaway-craving, paranoid man, he sure did stick out. He had only dealt with Frank Devereaux on the phone or through Bobby.  
  
Once the car came to a halt, Castiel opened his door and stepped out. Since Dean had insisted on washing their clothes after the drive to Springfield and complained about the odor that Castiel’s soiled clothes gave off, Castiel had made the trip in Dean’s clothes. Although, Dean hadn’t been able to get the man to leave off the trenchcoat.  
  
It was easy to ignore Castiel’s change of dress in the car; Dean was busy worrying about Sam and life and basically everything else. It was much harder to ignore as Castiel stood at the door and adjusted the jeans since they were a tad loose at the waist.  
  
Surprisingly, Castiel filled out the thighs and ass of the jeans, though. Actually, his noncompliance in shedding the trenchcoat may benefit Dean’s attention span.  
  
Dean also stepped out of the car. “So, you sit tight,” Dean’s eyes flicked to the hidden jeans, “while I make a phone call.”  
  
Staring with an expression of complete boredom, Castiel acquiesced and sat back onto the passenger seat of the car, his legs hanging out the car door.  
  
He had to call Bobby, make sure he did this correctly. One wrong move and it could mean the end of Dean and Castiel. Frank was dangerous, but they needed his help if they were going to get anything more on Sam and Gabe’s disappearances.  
  
“Whadaya want, kid?”  
  
Dean chuckled, “Good to hear from you too, Bobby. How’s Adam?”  
  
“You call me knowing full well you’re about to ask me for help with something and the only thing you ask me is whether or not your step-brother is okay? He’s fine, by the way; I got a letter from him a few days ago. They’re still at school and there have been no security breaches of any kind. Oh, and me? Oh, I’m doing just great, absolutely peachy. Thanks for not asking.”  
  
Leaning against the car, Dean sighed. “I’m sorry. I just, I’ve had a lot on my mind.”  
  
“I have too. You think I’ve been sitting here twiddling my thumbs for the past two and a half weeks. I’ve been worried sick. Sam and his guardian got snatched, then you fall of the face of the earth only to call me and ask for Frank Devereaux’s whereabouts. I have a life too you know and most of it is spent covering your ass.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and waited a moment.  
  
A few huffs were heard through the phone before Bobby calmed down. “Now, you’re calling to see how to get into Frank’s trailer, I take it. What you’re gonna have to do is very precise. You knock on the door three times. He’s gonna ask who you are. Don’t be a smartass; tell him exactly who you are. He’s not gonna answer you back while he looks you up. Knock three times, again.”  
  
“Okay, got it. Anything else?”  
  
“Don’t mention me. For some reason Frank’s got some bone to pick with me despite that I saved his goddamned life a few months ago; he’s about as grateful as you are.”  
  
Dean pushed off of the car. “Yes, sir. I got it. You take care of yourself, okay?”  
  
“You know I will. How about you try it out for a test run, huh? Or let that guardian of yours help out. You still running from him hand-over-foot?”  
  
More like falling in love him head-over-heels. “Nah, he’s actually kinda useful.” Dean turned to Castiel who had closed his eyes and laid back across the seats in the car, arms out over his head and reaching out the driver’s side door. “Well, when he wants to be.”  
  
At the third-person insult, Castiel opened one eye to peer at him.  
  
Dean waved it off.  
  
“You be nice to that kid. He’s there to help you out. God knows you won’t let me help you.” There was an odd break and a complete silence. For a moment, Dean wondered if Bobby had hung up. “And Dean?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“When this all blows over, you should stop by. It’d be nice to see you and you…r little friend.” The gentle lilt in Bobby’s voice signaled to Dean that he knew exactly what had changed between Castiel and Dean. Bobby was one of the few people who knew that Dean wasn’t the heterosexual boulder that he liked to portray.  
  
He figured that the feeling he was experiencing was akin to a teenager whose secret crush had been discovered by their mother. His cheeks got hot and his mouth got dry.  
  
There was laughing from the other end of the phone call when Dean hung up.  
  
\---  
  
Dean sat at one of the many computer chairs in what was probably once a breakfast nook. He looked over Frank’s shoulder at the computer screen, watching as computer code flew across the screen.  
  
Eventually, Frank spun around in his chair, hands cupped over his knees. “Alright, Dean Winchester, what am I looking up for you today?”  
  
“It’s uh, it’s a name. I think it’s the guy who took my brother and his guardian from Stanford.” Dean wrung his hands. What if it was wrong? What if Lilith was just sending them on a wild goose chase? It was a strange name; a monster name, like Frankenstein.  
  
Frank huffed and made a gurgling sound in annoyance. “Well, spit it out.” He turned around and readied himself to type, awaiting the search item.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Dean prepared himself to be laughed at. He was going to get laughed at.  
  
A hand lit to his shoulder. Castiel’s hand was warm and, frankly, huge. Dean felt his insides heat up. It was one of those moments where he understood the sentiment but the means were counterproductive.  
  
Snapping back to Frank’s wispy, white hair, Dean blurted out, “Lucifer.”  
  
The hand on Dean’s shoulder fell away. Frank’s fingers didn’t move. The moment moved oddly; it felt as if time had frozen inside the trailer for everyone except Dean.  
  
Castiel stepped away from Dean’s side before silently slipping from the room. Apparently, Castiel’s job was done since he’d offered his moral support and Dean had completed the task he was nervous over. Why was Castiel so aloof? It just made him more attractive, really.  
  
“Are you sure it was Lucifer?” Devereaux began to slowly type the name into the search code. One letter at a time, Dean could hear the clock tick between each tap on the keys. His finger hovered over the return key as he turned in his chair, a grave expression painting his pale, graying face.  
  
So dramatic.  
  
Nodding, Dean wondered exactly what his brother must have gotten into, what exactly had been done to him. Perhaps they weren’t looking for Sam, but for his body. And Gabriel too, what if Gabriel was hurt or worse? Dean hadn’t really taken to the guy, but that didn’t mean that he deserved such a tragic end. “Yeah, that’s what Lilith said.”  
  
“You asked Lilith? Who are you again?” Frank’s shell-shocked expression was replaced by suspicion faster than Dean thought could be humanly possible.  
  
Dean brought a hand to his forehead and furrowed his eyebrows in agitation. “I’m Dean Winchester, John Winchester and Mary Campbell’s oldest son. Now press enter, you bastard.” He muttered the last of it under his breath.  
  
When Dean got his bearings about himself and looked up, Frank’s computer was showing a few results for Lucifer. Some were accolades for his works with kids from broken families and charities for the cause. Some were from his biography, ‘Me, Myself, and He on High’. Some were online tabloids about his lack of girlfriend.  
  
Dean mentally added ‘Or boyfriend’, just because he was salty about the issue. “It doesn’t look like there is much to go by.”  
  
“That’s what they want you to think.” Frank kept tapping away.  
  
The results page reloaded, but this time there were fewer results. Most were official court documents. ‘Mr. Lucifer of Black Gate Press has been found innocent after supposed blackmailing’, ‘Black Gate Press’ CEO has been brought up on smuggling and human-trafficking charges’, and ‘Connection to drug trafficking a ruse or a close call with CEO and known philanthropist Lucifer’ were some of the ones that stuck out.  
  
Swallowing tersely, Dean reached for the mouse on the mouse pad. He used the wheel between the buttons to scroll through the page. Once the charitability and obvious façade was removed, the man wasn’t very reputable. He was disgusting, worse than Bartholomew, worse than Lilith. Dean was reading words like slavery and child labor and meth labs; this man ran an empire.  
  
Well, he allegedly ran an empire.  
  
Dean let his hand slip away from the mouse and fall to his lap. He was shocked, afraid? He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this anymore. Maybe he wasn’t ready for something like this. It didn’t matter anyway, his brother was in there, in that. He didn’t have a choice; he would be going in for him. “Where is Lucifer’s base of operations?”  
  
“I’d say Chicago; that’s where his company headquarters is. His charitable headquarters is in Kansas City, though, so it could be there.” Frank was scanning over the page, the glare from the screen catching on his glasses making him look even less sane, if that were possible.  
  
A chill ran down Dean’s back, not a good one. The Shurley Academy was in Kansas City.  
  
“We should pack our things and go to Chicago, then.” Castiel stood in the doorway from the private quarters of the trailer.  
  
Dean startled a little, but felt relieved that it was only Castiel. “What were you doing in there? Taking a dump?”  
  
In true Castiel fashion, he ignored the question. “We should pack the car and head out for Chicago. It’ll be three hours. We can be there by sundown.” He turned to leave.  
  
Catching his wrist, Dean pulled him back. For a moment, Dean forgot what he was going to say; he’d never touched Castiel skin-to-skin before, only through his godawful, iconic trench coat. Castiel’s pulse was fast. Dean’s eyes traveled up to Castiel’s. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Castiel tugged his hand away. “We should get moving.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess.” Dean stood up and stretched. “Except,” he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Castiel, “we’re going to Kansas City, not Chicago.”  
  
Frank forgotten, Castiel donned an irritated expression, lips flat and eyes tired. “To his charity headquarters? You think he’s running all of this from his charity?”  
  
“No.” Dean moved to slide past Castiel, but paused in the doorway, chest to chest with the man. He did it partially because it was the only way to get Castiel to take him seriously and partly because he wanted to; he wanted to press his chest to Castiel’s. He wasn’t disappointed either; Castiel’s chest felt powerful through their t-shirts. Almost nose-to-nose, Dean insisted, “We go to Kansas City to make sure that Adam is safe. We don’t want Lucifer snatching him up, while we storm Chicago.” He stepped away.  
  
The look on Castiel’s face was entirely unfamiliar to Dean. It wasn’t anything like his usual muted expressions; it was somewhere between confusion and irritation. His cheek-bones were slightly pink, probably from annoyance. His breath came heavily out his nose like mini pants.  
  
Dean chuckled at his plan’s success. “The last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.” He didn’t wait to see the final reaction. Instead, he retreated from the trailer, “We gotta go get some eyes on Adam.”


	8. Phone a Friend

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 8

Castiel was acting weird; at least, Dean thought he was. Sometimes, it was hard to tell whether Castiel was acting weird or acting like Castiel, but Dean was pretty sure that this was abnormal even for him. He was fidgety.  
  
When they had been sitting in Lilith’s office, Castiel had been calm and collected. When they were being interrogated by Frank, he’d been smooth and patient. But since they’d began their 5-hour drive to Kansas City, his leg had never stopped bouncing and he hadn’t said a word. While Castiel is usually quiet, Dean had been trying to talk to him or argue with him; and Castiel rarely passed on an opportunity to debate.  
  
Maybe Dean had crossed the line when he’d made a sexual joke at him. That was unlikely, though; Castiel never got bothered by that sort of thing. He’d been hit on by waitresses and he’d been come on to by guys and gals alike, and Dean had never seen him react.  
  
Well, this looked like a job for Charlie. Luckily, Dean came to this decision at about the same time as the car decided that it could use some more gas. He turned off at the next exit with gasoline merchants and pulled up.  
  
Getting out, Dean leaned back into the car to suggest to Castiel something to get him away from the car long enough for Dean to make a phone call. “Hey, how about you go grab some honeybuns and beef jerky while I fill ‘er up?” Dean offered a smile.  
  
Castiel blinked and his knee stopped bouncing; he looked around like he hadn’t noticed that they’d gotten off the highway. After a moment, his barely-there confused expression turned to Dean.  
  
His smile taking on a pitying tilt, Dean tried again but softer, “How about you get some honeybuns and beef jerky while I fill ‘er up?” He used his thumb to point at the pump.  
  
Nodding, Castiel unbuckled and stepped out of the car. Before he strode away, he spoke again over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go to the restroom too.”  
  
That was completely fine with Dean, more time for him to call Charlie.  
  
Once Castiel was out of earshot, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped in Charlie’s number. She was one of his best friends; well, she was his only best friend. Should he call Castiel a best friend? Is he even a friend? Ugh, he didn’t have time to think about that. He nestled the phone between his ear and shoulder and began to pump gas.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hey, Charlie.” Dean selected the grade of gasoline and lifted the nozzle from the hook.  
  
“Dean! How are you? Have you killed anyone lately?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed. “Why do you even ask? I can hear you wincing because you don’t want to know the answer.” He unscrewed the gas cap and began to pump gas.  
  
There was a loud sound of frustration from Charlie. “I don’t want to know the answer, but I need to know the answer, you know?”  
  
Yeah, Dean understood that feeling. Ever since he saw the horrible things that Lucifer had allegedly done to people, he both didn’t want and needed to know what had become of his brother. He still didn’t even know what Lucifer wanted with Sam.  
  
Thus far, Dean had been going through all of the available information hoping to come up with some perpetrator, some catalyst, but to no avail. Now, he had a name and absolutely no motive. He’d never personally worked for Lucifer. He’d never killed or blackmailed anyone that he’d known had a connection to the man.  
  
The only thing he could come up with was that it had to be an old grudge, something against his father or grandfather. Of course, that sort of grudge meant that the chances of success were even slimmer.  
  
“Uh, Charlie, could you look something up for me?” He looked over to the convenience store. Inside, Castiel seemed to be wreaking havoc. It seemed he had knocked over a rack of chips and was helping the store clerk stand it upright again. It was adorable.  
  
“What’s adorable?” Charlie almost mewled.  
  
Turning red in the face, Dean spun on his heel to look at the changing number of gallons he’d put into the car. “Nothing.”  
  
“Ooooh, Dean’s got a crush? Who is it? Is it a hot chick or a burly guy?” She lowered her voice when she said ‘burly man’ and it was things like that that managed to make Dean’s life a little less morbid. Except in this instance, because, damn, Castiel was muscular.  
  
The gas pump cut off. Dean wiggled it and lifted the nozzle a bit further from the edge of the car and topped it off. “It’s nothing.”  
  
There was a short pause followed by a squeal. “It’s a guy! You have to tell me all about it!”  
  
“I don’t have time for that right now. I need you to look up Castiel, uh,” he’d never gotten a last name; what was wrong with him? “I need you to look up Castiel; he used to be a soldier and now is a bodyguard called a Guardian. You think you can handle that?”  
  
“Of course, I can, but you owe me one sleepover and all of the details.” She was still elated; it was obvious by her tone.  
  
Dean nodded and turned to see Castiel handing over a pile of crumbled bills from his trench coat pocket to the poor cashier. He chuckled to himself. “Thanks, Charlie. I guess I’ll see you once all of this blows over.”  
  
“Yeah. And, Dean?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Be safe.”  
  
With that, he hung up the call with Charlie. Immediately, he tapped in Bobby’s number. Luckily, he didn’t answer and Dean just left a voicemail. “Hey, Bobby, just wanted to ask you to let the butcher know that I’m gonna be dropping by for the short round a bit later. Thanks.” That would do the trick. Dean had always called school the ‘butcher block’ where you either made the cut or not, and Bobby was an intelligent guy; he’d realize that short round was Adam.  
  
Dean hung up the gas nozzle and pressed the red button indicating he did not want a receipt.  
  
“Who was that?”  
  
Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Dean turned to see Castiel standing at the car with a plastic bag. “I called Bobby and asked if he’d let the school know we’re stopping in.” He opened his door and tucked himself behind the steering wheel. He couldn’t wait to get back into Baby. The family car had been at Bobby’s since the Winchesters had moved in with Kate Milligan. The car had stuck out too much to keep around. Dean had learned how to drive in that car during his and Sam’s summers with Bobby over the years. Adam had even gone the last few summers.  
  
Dean absently wondered if Adam would go again this summer. Part of Dean wanted to keep the tradition alive, but he also wanted to honor whatever wishes Adam would have.  
  
From the passenger seat, Castiel handed over a cold root beer soda and opened a pack of beef jerky which he tucked into the center console so that they could each reach it. He then took out a honeybun and peeled back it wrapper. He ate slowly, taking tiny bites that didn’t amount to much. At that rate, it would take him forever to finish the treat, in contrast to how he practically inhales it any other time.  
  
As he pulled out of the gas station’s parking lot, Dean felt his sense of worry worsen.  
  
\---  
  
“Ah, Mister Winchester, it’s good to see you again.” Chuck Shurley waved them into the office.  
  
The walls were covered in wood paneling just like Dean remembered from the few too many time he was sent to the principal’s office. There were awards that hung behind Chuck Shurley’s head and a few bookshelves with textbooks and such. Dean had a hard time imagining that the squirrely Mr. Shurley had read the books and earned a degree in teaching and public speaking.  
  
Chuck stood next to the desk and shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. Like usual, he dressed like a tenured professor who had stopped caring about professionalism, sporting converse, jeans, and a blazer. “So, uh, how can I help you?”  
  
“My brother has been abducted.” Admittedly, Dean was paying a little more attention to Castiel looking over the bookshelves than to Chuck Shurley.  
  
Chuck took a step forward. “Oh, no, I can assure that didn’t happen; Adam is safe here. Our security is airtight.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean centered his attention on Chuck. “I meant the other one.”  
  
“Oh. Sam, really? Sam was taken? That’s so sad; he was such a bright student.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, cut the chatter. I need to know if you have a high security part of the campus where you can keep Adam.” Dean spun around to the map that he knew was on the wall behind him. Throughout his years at the Shurley Academy, he would end up sitting in the principal’s office, studying the map and waiting for a reprimand. He was pretty sure there was a fall-out bunker on the grounds. He located it almost immediately, in the middle of the orienteering course, a dense forest; it was also where the students practiced sports like archery. He jabbed a finger into the map. “Can you keep Adam here for a few days until I deal with this situation?”  
  
Lighting next to him, Chuck looked pityingly at Dean. “I’m sorry Dean, but I can’t just lock a student up. He would be missing classes and that doesn’t go unnoticed either.”  
  
Dean rounded on him, glaring at him with as much intensity as he could muster. “He’ll be missing a lot more if Lucifer decides to snatch him up.” From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel shiver where he was squatting in front of the books.  
  
“Lucifer?” Chuck Shurley’s face had gone pale. “You mean…” He trailed off. “We’ll move Adam right away. Would you like to see him?”  
  
“If I could, that would be awesome. And his guardian, Michael.”  
  
Chuck approached his desk and pressed a button on the phone there. He told his secretary to call Adam and his guardian to his office.  
  
A childish part of Dean couldn’t wait to see Adam’s face. He would be so worried that he was in trouble; like Sam, the kid had an unblemished record. The worried part of Dean knew too well that his perfect attendance would be tarnished and he hoped that Adam would understand the reasons.  
  
Chuck snuck close to Dean again and whispered, “So, uh, who’s that guy? Is he a boyfriend or something?”  
  
Groaning, Dean lolled his head around to cast an unamused look at Chuck. Chuck was bi and had a really good grasp on his bi-radar. He even had one of those little rainbow triangles decals on his door so that the students knew his office was an LGBT positive space and everything.  
  
In a lapse of judgment, Dean had confided in him. He’d been fourteen and John had caught him. The short of it was that it hadn’t been pretty. Kat had calmed John down, but they were all shipped out to school the next day, so the issue never really got resolved. Funny enough, Dean hadn’t ever gotten along with his teachers; he’d often skipped class until the test or been getting into trouble. Chuck was the one person he saw on a regular basis. So, he’d asked a few questions and, yeah, Chuck helped him but also never let him forget it.  
  
“No, he’s not my boyfriend.”  
  
“Then who is he?”  
  
“Your airtight security didn’t give you any hints?” Dean raised an eyebrow.  
  
Chuck watched Castiel with unblinking eyes. “He has a government I.D. that waved our security background check.”  
  
Figures. “Yeah well, either way, he’s my guardian.”  
  
Turning with an expression of shock, eyes wide and slack-jawed, Chuck barely managed to get out, “You have a guardian, too?”  
  
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, mighty compliment isn’t it.” He watched Castiel; he’d moved on from the books and was looking over the degrees on the wall behind the desk.  
  
Turning to look at the two of them, Castiel looked almost as if he belonged there, surrounded by wood paneling and books. Maybe in another life, he’d been a librarian or professor. In fact, if Dean had been asked, he’d say that Castiel looked more at home in the office than Chuck did. Castiel broke the silence, “You’re first degree is from a Russian University.”  
  
Castiel’s father was Russian; Dean was rather proud that he remembered that fact about his friend, er, guardian. Briefly, Dean considered the awkward coincidence it would be if Chuck was Castiel’s father, but that was highly unlikely. Dean looked between the two and decided to ignore the resemblance. They could revisit how one of Dean’s pseudofathers could be Castiel’s actual father another day.  
  
“It is. I grew up there, but I’ve lived here for almost thirty years.” Chuck smiled and crossed the room. He put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and kept telling him about his first degree.  
  
This was just odd enough that Dean really wanted it to be over. As an answer, there was a knock on the door and Chuck yelled for them to enter.


	9. Too Close to Home

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 9

With Adam safely out of harm’s way with double security detail and Michael watching over him in the Chitaqua Bunker, named for the land that it was built on or rather built in, Dean felt like he could think again. They’d put together an arsenal from weapons that Michael convinced Chuck to let them borrow.  
  
They had so many weapons that Dean was more worried about crossing the Missouri-Illinois state line than breaking into Lucifer’s building. It wasn’t like there was customs or anything, but those sorts of places were patrolled by sheriffs and aircraft.  
  
Dean was lucky enough to be friends with a few sheriffs, Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum. They were the reason he’d gotten out of some sticky situations in the past.  
  
Despite that Castiel had calmed his jitters, he wasn’t entirely back to his baseline awkward personality. He sat on the other side of the booth in his newly laundered trench coat and oxford shirt. He almost looked put together unlike Dean who always felt one step away from a lumberjack-chic.  
  
Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Dean took a good look at the map. They’d stopped for a bite to eat at a burger joint. Castiel had ordered a hamburger with bacon and Dean had ordered the three-cheese burger. After huffing out a long sigh, Dean flattened the map to the table. “Where do you think we should enter the city from? You know full well that guy has his people working with the local police and crime bosses. We have to be smart about this.”  
  
“I say we take this road in.” Castiel traced his finer along a route from the opposite direction from where they were currently approaching Chicago. “He’ll be expecting us from this direction; we should attempt to fool him in that way.” Castiel left his finger on the map while he brought the straw of his large drink to his mouth with the other.  
  
“That makes sense.” Dean played with his straw but didn’t take a sip. “We also have to consider if it is the closest to the building in question.”  
  
Castiel hummed. “I don’t think we should be pinpointing the office building where Lucifer runs his companies from. He has a warehouse in the upper-east side.”  
  
Nodding, Dean stares at the map trying to see it but instead watching it swim. A hand reached out and covered his. Jerkily, Dean brought his gaze up to Castiel’s apologetic swimming, blue eyes.  
  
Patting his hand twice, Castiel stood. “I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”  
  
Once Dean was alone, he clasped his hands together, trying to conserve the warmth that Castiel had put there. Castiel had been a part of Dean’s life for a few months, but it had felt a bit like a lifetime. He bit his lip. He just hoped that they would be able to pull this off.  
  
Dean’s cellphone rang. He jumped and dug for it in his back pocket. It was Charlie. He tapped to answer and held it to his head. “Hey, Charlie.”  
  
“Hi, Dean. You totally own me two sleepovers. When I was looking up your Castiel dude, my computer got attacked by a nasty virus, and I know it wasn’t an accident. I dunno what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you’re up against some pretty important people.”  
  
“Heh,” Dean was anxious, “I’ve been getting the feeling.” He drummed his fingers on the table.  
  
Footsteps sounded and, even though it was strange to say it, Dean recognized them as Castiel’s. He shifted at the table, trying to think of a way to cover himself. Maybe he could excuse himself to take the rest of the call outside; maybe he could just pretend it’s someone else while he listened to Charlie. Castiel was too smart to fall for either of those though.  
  
“Castiel was born James Novak in Russia to a Russian mercenary and an American spy. He’s the youngest of 5 children.”  
  
Scanning up his guardian’s body, Dean watched the moment that Castiel realized that he was on the phone with someone and they were talking about him. Castiel’s expression change, his relaxed posture stiffened and his mouth snapped closed.  
  
“He still works with two of his brothers with an organization called the Angelics; he works with Michael and Loki, who goes by the Christian name Gabriel. One of his brothers died 5 years ago in a secondary terrorist attack. They were asked to assist by the federal government who has a long history of contracts with the Angelics. Robert, who went by the angelic name Uriel, was killed in a subway bombing.”  
  
Castiel was still standing awkwardly, but he hadn’t decided yet to run which Dean noted as admirable.  
  
Waving a hand to the seat, Dean asked for Castiel to sit back down, which he did, shakily. Dean knew something big was about to happen; it was only fitting with Castiel’s behavior.  
  
Continuing, Charlie didn’t miss a beat, “This is when things got difficult. The last brother was born Nick and he was never allowed into the Angelics organization. He was constantly in and out of mental facilities and was deemed unfit to be a soldier and further to be part of the Angelics. A few years ago he snuck out of the mental facility. He left two words out of dust made by pills he hoarded, ‘Release Lucifer’.”  
  
Dean’s mouth went dry. Lucifer was Castiel’s brother. This was wrong. This had all been a ruse. How could he have fallen for it? How could he have been so stupid? He hung up the phone, flipped it onto silent and dropped it onto the leather seat of the booth next to him. “If you don’t have the absolute best explanation for the information I just got, I swear to god this booth will be stained red by your blood alone.” Dean stared at the table. He was so ashamed by all of this. By some master plan, these brothers separated them and began picking them off, playing with their prey by letting Dean get his hopes up. He was so foolish. By now, Adam was dead in a bunker at his school.  
  
Oh god, what if Chuck was in on it too? What if this was a ploy since when Dean was only fourteen? What if-  
  
“Lucifer didn’t take your brother; he took my brother.”  
  
Brain coming to a complete halt, Dean’s hands shook with frustration. His body wanted to feel comfort in Castiel’s voice, but his mind wanted to throw him out a window. “Keep going.”  
  
Castiel’s voice was soft, still ground out like pepper, but almost melodic like he was trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible. “When we came to America, we were American citizens, since we were born to an American mother even though she lived in Canada most of her life. As we grew up, we all wanted to go into the military; it was how we were raised and it was in our blood. My mother was an American Spy and she was only ever attracted to powerful men.”  
  
Forcing himself to look at Castiel, Dean balled his hands into fists to offer himself something grounding.  
  
“Michael went into the military at 18. Lucifer should have been next but he decided to go to college first. Uriel went to boot camp at 17. Gabriel did the same. A year after Gabriel enlisted, Lucifer finished with his degree in nuclear physics and a minor in biological chemistry. When he went to the recruiting office, everything was going well until his psych evaluation. He had a God-complex. He had this strange fascination with the ability to take and give life at his own pleasure, and, for him, it definitely manifested as pleasure.”  
  
Dean raised a hand because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the rest of that particular detail, at least not yet.  
  
Redirecting the story, Castiel shook his drink so that the ice shifted. “When the court put him into a psych ward. We could visit him if we really wanted, but usually it would devolve to threats. Two years after that, I enlisted. I had a very rigorous psych evaluation, checked out entirely fine,” he raised his hands in a surrender, “Ever since, we’ve been trying to prove to everyone that none of us are our brother. And I’ve had to prove that I’m not secretly some killer for hire like my father was. My father was the only one of our fathers to have a shady past.”  
  
The image that popped into Dean’s head was Chuck Shurley fumbling through his speech every year at the orientation ceremony. He hoped to god that they weren’t related. Dean’s shaking had slowed down.  
  
Castiel gave a curt nod. “The rest you should know. My brother escaped from the facility, changed his name, and has been wreaking havoc.” He cleared his throat. “In all honesty, it was one of the things that your step-mother was working on. She learned all about Lucifer to the point that she could anticipate his next move, like anticipate that he was going to have her killed. That was when she contacted Michael and began negotiations over our guardianship of you and your brothers.”  
  
Like the back cover of a horrible novel, the waitress brought out their burgers and fries. “You guys need any ketchup?”  
  
Still processing, Dean, moving simply on autopilot, began to eat his burger. Luckily, Castiel shook his head.  
  
They ate in silence, well as much of a silence as can be expected when two men are enjoying amazingly juicy and perfectly fashioned burgers.  
  
Though they attacked their burgers differently, Dean shoving half of the burger into his face and slowly enjoying the chew and Castiel eating in small quick bites; they finished around the same time. After refusing a tempting offer of milkshakes at half-price, they walked out to the car they were currently using.  
  
Dean leaned crossed arms on the top of the red Chevy. “So, why should I trust you?” Part of Dean already did and probably would continue to. It was really shameful to think that, even after all of this, Dean took Castiel’s side.  
  
There was a long moment during which they just stared at each other.  
  
Castiel broke the silence with his gravelly answer, “I’m not here to hurt you, Dean. And honestly, I’m your best shot of finding your brother and you’re mine.”  
  
Holding up the key fob to the car – Dean was going to miss the capability to automatically unlock a car from a button when he got back into his Baby – Dean clicked the unlock button twice. “Get in. It’s about time we get our cavalry together.”  
  
\---  
  
In the end, they decided that fewer people would do a better job. Castiel invited one of his friends and Dean invited one of his. The plan was that the four of them would get into the warehouse, take out Lucifer, grab Gabe and Sam, and run.  
  
“Heya, Clarence, it’s been a long time.” A short woman with dark curly hair stepped out of her car.  
  
They had decided to meet up in Evanston; it was close enough to their target that they could roll out but far enough away that they weren’t already on Lucifer’s radar, hopefully.  
  
Dean sat on the back seat with his feet out the door on the pavement. He was cleaning his gun, just like he did whenever he was nervous; it calmed him down. It just so happened that the nervous tick was also super useful. He looked up at the woman, “You must be Meg.”  
  
“Well, you know my name and I’m gonna guess that yours is Dean.” She grinned.  
  
Nodding, Dean went to get up.  
  
“Oh, no, don’t get up. You keep cleaning that gun; it’s a nice view.” She sunk into one hip and crossed her arms over her chest. She wore a leather jacket and leather boots, but the rest of her outfit probably came from Target. It was the sort of thing that Dean would put together as an outfit.  
  
Castiel circled around the car. “Meg, how are you?” Their greeting was colder than Dean had expected; Castiel had spoken very highly of Meg.  
  
Almost bashful, Meg scuffed a boot against the parking lot. “Could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.” She shrugged, glossing over the majority of her story, obviously. “So, are we ready to go?”  
  
“Not yet, we’re waiting on one more person.” Castiel tucked the blade he’d been sharpening into a holster at his waist.  
  
Flipping the rag around so that he could use a new side, Dean replaces one piece of the gun and took up another. “So, how do you to know each other?” He hoped he didn’t sound too nosy.  
  
“Clarence and I met at the mental institution.” She tilted her head to the side and let her hair blow in the light breeze. She leaned forward and whispered to Dean, “We were roommates.”  
  
That didn’t compute, but Dean just turned to Castiel, expecting an explanation.  
  
Castiel shook his head minutely. “We met when I visited my brother during the last few weeks before I shipped off to boot camp. She was a nurse there. She was ex-military, so she understood my situation and lent me her spare bedroom for a few weeks.”  
  
That made more sense.  
  
“Spoil sport,” Meg mumbled.  
  
The rumbling of a motorcycle cut through the conversation and, with that sound, Dean stood up. A figure turned into the parking lot and parked right at the end of the car. The burly man stepped off and pulled his helmet off.  
  
Dean launched forward, “Benny, it’s good to see you, man.” He pulled him into a hug.  
  
“Brother, you should be some glad that I was working construction in Ohio, otherwise I wouldn’t have been here until tomorrow night.” He hugged back.  
  
After a set of short introductions and a fully explanation of the task at hand, they sort of just stared at each other in the rolling dusk of the parking lot.  
  
Meg clapped, bringing everyone back from wherever their minds had wandered to, “So, three men and a lady. Let’s do this.” She strode to the car and got in. The men followed.  
  
For some reason, Dean wasn’t entirely pessimistic about their plan and their crew. Maybe it was the night; maybe it was the people. All that was for certain was that something big was going to happen.


	10. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The is the LAST necessary chapter.

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 10

So, by this point, Dean was pretty fucking sure it was a trap. There was no way that they had gotten this far into Lucifer’s domain without him knowing. He may be crazy, but, if all of his alleged crimes were anything to go by, he wasn’t dumb.  
  
Dean pushed open the heavy door to the back stair well of the Heckland Building. The red paint from the door flaked off onto his hand and he looked down to brush it off onto his pants. In that moment, shots sounded from higher up in the stair well.  
  
Scrambling, Dean aimed his gun up and moved to the side of the stair well so he was hidden by the metal flights of stairs. Benny followed close behind him.  
  
Castiel pushed his way in front of Dean and began to climb the stairs. According to what Charlie could get from an internet café across the street and quickie hack job into the building’s security system, Sam and Gabriel were in separate holding cells on opposite ends of the fifth floor.  
  
The plan was simple; get to fifth floor, get them out, and get themselves out. It wasn’t something that took a lot of discussion. It took more shooting.  
  
Bang bang. Castiel shot toward the corner opposite of them on the third floor, the floor just above them now. There was a thud as someone went down and a smattering of quicker thuds meaning someone was running.  
  
At this point, Sam would be able to hear the gun fire and know that the calvary were there. He’d start making as much noise and cause as much distraction as possible, and, if Gabriel knew Sam even half as well as Castiel knew Dean, he’d start stirring up shit too.  
  
They turned the corner of the half-way landing platform between floors three and four. This time Ben took out the sharpshooter above them by two landings.  
  
At this point, Dean wasn’t gonna get to shoot anybody. He wanted to shoot somebody.  
  
Blinking away all of his thoughts. He listened in closely to the floors above them. When they rounded the next corner, he shot three bullets. Three thuds followed.  
  
Castiel turned to look at him over his shoulder with wide eyes that either signaled that he was impressed to pissed that Dean had hogged all of the kills.  
  
Dean didn’t let himself think about it for too long. He sprinted up the last flights of stairs.  
  
They had gotten to the fifth floor.  
  
Castiel looked through the doorway. It opened to a two-way hallway. They were going to have to split up.  
  
Consciously Dean knew that the best bet would be to break up into Dean with Benny and Castiel with Meg, but he didn’t want to break away from Castiel. It was extremely selfish and he wasn’t sure why he felt that way.  
  
Meg crouched down at the door, gun grasped up in front of her nose. “Well, here’s the part where the party ends.” She turned to Castiel.  
  
Huddled close to Meg and the door, Dean couldn’t see Castiel since he was behind his right shoulder, but he must have done something indicative of a decision.  
  
“Alrightie. Bear-man, you’re with me.” She waved to Benny and grasped the door handle.  
  
Part of Dean was relieved to be grouped with Castiel.  
  
Benny had his phone up to his ear. Charlie was telling him where either Sam or Gabriel was. He nodded along with phone and gave a direct look to Meg and a curt, separate nod to her. They ducked through the door and slipped away down the hallway.  
  
Turning to Castiel, Dean took his steadying hand from his gun and dug his phone from his pocket, waiting for Charlie to finish talking to Benny and call him. It didn’t take long for the screen to light up and ‘Unknown Caller’ to flash across the screen.  
  
Swiping to answer, Dean brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, so which one are we going after?”  
  
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’re after the annoying smart ass.” It wasn’t Charlie on the phone. It was a man’s voice; a voice like Castiel’s but more patronizing, taunting him. “Come along to Room 543. I’d like to propose a trade.” The phone call ended.  
  
\---  
  
While arguing for a full minute about who should go into the room first – Dean thought that Castiel should go second because it was his brother and Castiel thought it should be Dean because he was Dean’s bodyguard – they fought four grunts away from the door  
  
Dean entered the room first, gun raised and eyes narrowed.  
  
In the center of the room stood a blonde man with a cruel smile and a white suit. He had a bound but noticeably unharmed Sam with him. “Dean Winchester, I’ve heard so much about you.”  
  
Castiel lit beside Dean; his own gun hanging at his side. He was still deadly, just unassumingly so.  
  
“Not from your brother here, but from some other sources of mine.” Lucifer leaned up to Sam’s ear and stage-whispered, “Don’t worry. You won’t get hurt if your brother takes me up on my trade.”  
  
Not putting his gun down, Dean set his jaw. “And what sort of deal are you trying to make?”  
  
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Oh, it’s quite a prize.” He held out a hand gesturing to Castiel. “My brother.” He then waved the same hand toward Sam. “For yours.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Surprised didn’t begin to describe what the looks on Lucifer’s, Sam’s, and Castiel’s faces. It even gave Dean a short start. Had it been a month ago, Dean would have readily handed Castiel over for a few extra lives on laundromat Pac-Man. He would have traded Castiel for new toothpaste. Castiel hadn’t meant anything to him.  
  
Funny how things change.  
  
Except, Sam was his brother and he shouldn’t have said no. Family is what Dean has. Who is Castiel to mess up Dean’s notion of family?  
  
The air shifted as Castiel turned to look directly at Dean’s profile. “Take the deal.”  
  
“Why?” Dean blinked but didn’t take his eyes off Lucifer.  
  
“Because my job is to protect you and this is how I protect you.” Castiel pressed his gun into Dean’s hand. He walked across the room, halfway to Lucifer. “Now, let Sam go.”  
  
Lucifer chuckled, “Certainly.” He rocked Sam backward by pulling on one of the ropes around him before chucking him forward. Sam stumbled across the room and careened into Dean since his legs were tied from the knee up.  
  
Just when Sam had caught his balance, Dean repeated Lucifer’s action and directed Sam toward the door to the hallway. Hopefully, Benny and Meg would come back around soon with Gabriel and they could all gank this asshole.  
  
In a flash, Dean brought both guns up and aimed them at Lucifer.  
  
Lucifer had the audacity to look offended. “I thought we had a deal?”  
  
“I never agreed to anything.” Which was true; it had been Castiel who had taken Lucifer up on the offer.  
  
Lucifer pouted and stomped his foot like a teenager who didn’t get her way. “Ugh, fine. I’ll do it the hard way,” he whined. Suddenly, the immature demeanor fell away and Lucifer changed into some sort of prime-time negotiator. He adjusted his tie. “Cassy, you and I both know that you’re not as innocent as your papers make you out to be.”  
  
Tilting his head, Castiel looked a bit like a dog listening intently to his owner.  
  
“You and I both know the kind of person your father was, the type my father was.” He smiled wide and sing-songed, “When a mommy spy and a daddy mercenary really love each other,” his voice cracked and grew serious again, “we’re what happens.” Lucifer strode over to Castiel, put his hands on his shoulders, and let them slide down to his elbows. “Now, brother, it was always us against the world. Why don’t we do that again?”  
  
Castiel tugged backward, but Lucifer’s grip on him remained.  
  
Leaning toward his ear but making sure to look at Dean in eye over Castiel’s shoulder, Lucifer continued, “You and me, we loved our fantasies. Remember when I found your diary? It was pages and pages of ways to kill us, your own family. You knew when we were each most vulnerable. You had it all strategically planned. Why don’t you tell Dean how you were planning to kill Michael? Oh, Dean, you should have seen the artistry in the method. It was absolutely hideous, truly inspired.” He let go of Castiel and took a walk about the room. “It was a bit like Clue. It was the youngest brother with the lamp in the bedroom. It was the youngest brother with the butcher’s knife in the living room. It was the youngest brother in the bathroom with a chewed-off electrical cord.” He circled back to Castiel. “Now, brother, why don’t we hu-”  
  
Dean wasn’t sure what had happened for a long moment.  
  
Wide-eyed, Lucifer had cut off and was looking down at his middle. He turned an appalled look to his brother, “You piece of shit. I’m family.”  
  
“You haven’t been family in a long time.” Castiel pivoted on his heel and walked away toward Dean.  
  
Lucifer moved to follow but ended up tripping over his own stumbling foot and falling to the floor on his side, a long dagger hilt protruding from his middle. “You watch yourself, Little Brother. You have other enemies.” Lucifer’s hands and shirt were turning red as they soaked up his blood.  
  
Sighing, Castiel turned back to his elder brother. “It was the youngest brother, in the office building, with the dagger.”  
  
Carefully, Dean handed Castiel’s gun back to him.  
  
“Hey, guys, a little help here?” With the dramatic moment over, Dean rushed over to help his brother untie himself.  
  
\---  
  
“Why did Lucifer not thing you were going to kill him? Why did he think you were his ally?” Dean touched his busted lip; it stung but it would be fine is a day or two.  
  
Castiel didn’t have any cuts, but, by the way he held his arm over his chest, Dean was pretty sure he had gotten kneed in the gut and that had to hurt. Castiel shrugged. “We were close when we were younger. He started getting creepy around the time I started middle school. I don’t think he ever realized how afraid of him I was.”  
  
Scoffing, Dean turned and walked sideways next to Castiel to direct his undivided attention. “You didn’t look scared. You looked like a motherfucking badass.”  
  
Castiel let out a single scoff that turned into a pained brooked huff of air out his nose. “Thank you, Dean, but, honestly, I was scared shitless.”  
  
“He didn’t seem to have a weapon.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Castiel shook his head. “He doesn’t need one. He had a god-complex. He thinks he knows exactly how everything is going to pan out. He also happened to know third different forms of martial arts and four deadly pressure points, but who’s counting.”  
  
Seeing Benny and Gabriel in the distance against the car, Dean waved. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound like a fair fight.”  
  
“I happen to know three forms of martial arts, boxing, and three deadly pressure points.”  
  
Dean’s head jerked to point a look of incredulity toward his friend. “Really? How’d you learn all that?”  
  
“Lucifer taught me.” Castiel stopped.  
  
Sam had already hobbled on ahead of them and was talking with Gabe and Benny.  
  
Turning and blocking Castiel from the others’ views, Dean asked quietly, “What’s up?”  
  
“Dean, Lucifer and I are so much alike. He’s right. I planned homicides for each of my family members since I was small. I used to dream about it, perfect it. Maybe, I am destined to be like him.”  
  
“I don’t believe that.”  
  
Castiel shook his head like Dean was some sort of naïve child. “How can you say that so decisively?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “You kind of remind me of Sam. You’re from a shitty past, but you have a promising future. I promise you, I wouldn’t have refused trading you for my brother if you weren’t something important. You’re like a brother to me at this point.”  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Castiel tilted his head but maintained a neutral expression. “A brother?”  
  
Nodding, Dean smiled.  
  
The look on Castiel’s face morphed, passing through something that subtly reminded Dean of Gabriel’s signature smirk; it must have been inherited from their mother. It was predatory, and, suddenly, Castiel looked like he was starved. “I don’t need another brother.”  
  
There was nothing indicative of a secondary meaning in his voice or words, but Dean heard the message loud and clear. Something a lot more than brotherly was going on between them. At least it wasn’t only Dean who had gotten that impression.  
  
“Hey, Cassy!” Gabriel waved them over. “Get you and that precious princess over here so we can leave.” He hopped off of the hood where he had been sitting. “Do you think we can stop for ice cream?”  
  
Luckily, Sam smacked Gabriel hard enough for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't call him 'brother, call him 'daddy'.
> 
> Oh, god what did I just type?????? Nevermind. Nevermind. I'm not here. Melts into the ground.
> 
> So, this is the last necessary chapter. aka....
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER IS PORN!!!


	11. The??? Smut??? (Bottom!Dean)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, keep in mind that this is written by an asexual, so I gotta do a lot of build up and a lot of commitment shit at the end.

Shotgun Wedding| Chapter 11 | Bonus Smut Chapter (Bottom!Dean)

When he hung up the phone call from Sam and Gabriel, he felt relieved. They were back in California in their shitty apartment. Gabriel had taken the liberty of munching on cookies the entire time he was on the phone with Dean, but, honestly, Dean couldn’t be mad. They were back where they were supposed to be.  
  
They had taken extra precautions. For the night, they were using metal-contraption door barricades and would continue to use them until they could buy reinforced locking mechanisms.  
  
In any case, Dean felt better. Adam was back in his regular classes and only a little annoyed that his eldest step-brother, though Adam would insist on just ‘brother’ or perhaps ‘asshole’ given recent events, had basically quarantined him for 3 days.  
  
Dean’s family was safe again.  
  
He stood from the little table in his and Castiel’s current motel room. He’d already gotten ready for bed. With a 4-hour time difference, Dean had known that Sam and Gabe would be calling late. He crossed the room, plugged his phone into the wall charger, and quietly rested his phone on the nightstand.  
  
While Dean’s preferred sleeping attire was a t-shirt and boxers, Castiel was still sporting all of his clothes and his trenchcoat, lying face-down on the bed. At least he’d had the mind to toe off his shoes.  
  
He wasn’t asleep. Dean wasn’t entirely sure how he knew that Castiel was still awake, but he did. Maybe his breathing was too fast; maybe his was twitching and Dean was only subconsciously picking up on it.  
  
Dean climbed onto the bed and knelt next to Castiel; his knees almost brushing Castiel’s hip and torso. He looked over the older man. This was one of the only times that Castiel looked particularly relaxed.  
  
Reaching to its collar, Dean began to peel the trenchcoat off, revealing a black suit coat. He tossed the trenchcoat over to the chair that he’d walked over from. He moved to do the same for the suit coat. He bit his lip and smothered the urge to run his finger along the collar, where Castiel’s skin met silky black coat. He removed the coat and threw it with Castiel’s trenchcoat.  
  
Now, Castiel was clothed in his white oxford shirt, pants, and socks.  
  
Dean’s eyes raked over the broad shoulders and thick waist. Dean realized that he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Perhaps he was getting Castiel ready for bed, but it was having some unintended consequences. He glanced down at the front of his boxers and let out a hot breath.  
  
No point stopping now. Castiel was still awake. His fingers twitched occasionally, and Dean happened to be looking at his neck when his swallowed harshly.  
  
Reaching for him again, Dean placed his hands on Castiel’s back and began to knead at the muscles. They were unbelievably tight. As Dean kept going, they loosened and relaxed under the cloth, under his fingers. Dean wondered if part of the tension was Castiel wondering what the heck he was doing.  
  
Dean had to admit, if their roles were reversed, he would be anxious and tense.  
  
The fabric of the oxford shirt was rough and Dean’s fingers, even with their calluses, weren’t enjoying the burn. Castiel probably wasn’t either.  
  
He leaned over Castiel, carefully balancing his weight toward his feet. He slid his hands around Castiel, feeling Castiel’s pecs and nipples through the shirt’s thick material. At this point, Dean was feeling hot all over from embarrassment and arousal.  
  
Nose almost at Castiel’s hairline, Dean deftly unbuttoned and untucked the shirt from his pants and body. He retreated to his earlier kneeling position and peeled the shirt off the same way he had the two coats, stopping briefly to unbutton the cuffs. Dean almost thought he heard Castiel chuckle, but he may have imagined it.  
  
Once the shirt had joined the coats on their chair. Dean was faced with the wide expanse of Castiel’s back. There were deep ridges defining his back muscles and moles peppered about. Reverently, he placed his hands down again. He wasn’t sure if he shivered or Castiel shivered or if they both did.  
  
He began his informal massage again. He doubted Castiel’s skin met sunlight very often, but his skin was shades darker than Dean’s.  
  
Dean happened upon a knot at the base of the far-side of Castiel’s neck. He couldn’t get a good angle from where he was kneeling. The air was tense. Dean’s brain was repeating ‘are you going to do it’ over and over.  
  
Swinging his knee over to the other side of Castiel’s torso, Dean settled over him.  
  
Castiel was tense again, but not as tense as he had been when Dean had begun the massage. And it didn’t take nearly as long for him to relax again.  
  
Digging his thumbs into the knot, Dean pushed his body into the action, rolling his ass over the basseof Castiel’s spine. He was too determined with Castiel’s neck and facing the wrong way to see Castiel’s legs shift.  
  
When the knot in his muscle finally gave way, Dean let out his mild frustration in a huff. He rubbed his hands up and down Castiel’s neck looking for any other knots and, because he was enjoying himself, he decided to rake his fingers up from Castiel’s neck through his hair.  
  
That was when the room’s atmosphere imploded.  
  
Suddenly, Dean was thrown off of Castiel. Maybe he’d gone too far. This was the moment when Castiel killed him right. Everything was going too well and now it was time for everything to go to shit. Now was when-  
  
Dean’s thoughts cut off when Castiel deposited himself between Dean’s legs. Castiel had an arm on each side of his ribs and his head hung low between his shoulders.  
  
Dean’s hands lifted on autopilot to trace the muscles in Castiel’s shoulders. He was addicted to touching this man. He wanted it so bad.  
  
Castiel’s elbows buckled and suddenly his forehead was pressed to Dean’s clothed torso; his sharp chin almost at Dean’s belly button.  
  
Dean felt so warm. He kept moving his hands over Castiel. He traced his finger up his neck and caught his fingertips lightly on his jaw, pulling on it just slightly, letting Castiel know that he wanted to see his face.  
  
When Castiel obliged and looked up at him, his pupils were wide and he was breathing heavy. Through panting, he managed, “I want you so much.” He slid his body up Dean’s until he brushed the tip of his nose to the tip of Dean’s. “I shouldn’t be this close to my charge.” It was almost a gowl.  
  
Chuckling, Dean tilted his head. “Don’t worry. Sooner or later I’ll run away again.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and brushed his thumbs over Castiel’s prominent cheekbones. “And then you’ll have to chase me down and tell me I’m yours.”  
  
Castiel groaned. He suddenly was propped up on one arm and pushing Dean’s shirt up. Dean decided to help and wriggled out of it.  
  
Next to go were Castiel’s pants, unbuttoned, shucked off, and kicked from the bed. As soon as he could, Dean slipped his hands into Castiel’s underwear and grabbed his ass. God, so good.  
  
“My thoughts exactly,” Castiel replied from where he was nuzzling into the hinge of Dean’s jaw.  
  
Their boxers didn’t take as much effort, just shoved down their legs and flicked to the side. They rutted together and Dean kept moaning so loud he was sure there would be complaints in the morning. “I want you.” Dean panted. “Inside.” He tugged on Castiel’s hair to make sure he was listening. “Now.”  
  
Castiel was busy running his lips and stubble over Dean’s throat. “Do you have lube?”  
  
Damn. “I have gun oil?”  
  
Castiel pulled away to send an unamused look at Dean. In his growling voice, Castiel argued, “I’m not going to fuck you with gun oil.”  
  
Head lolling back, Dean moaned again. At this point, he didn’t care what Castiel fucked him with, so long as he fucked him and soon.  
  
“Hold yourself open.” Castiel pulled back and Dean almost argued, but strong hands scooped up his knees and pulled them apart, out of the way.  
  
Dean did as he was told, reaching under himself and pulling his cheeks apart. He squashed the urge to touch his hole. It was aching. It wanted to be played with so much it was twitching involuntarily. Dean bit his lip.  
  
The next sensation wasn’t familiar, but certainly unmistakable. Castiel’s mouth had connected with the soft expanse of skin just behind Dean’s balls. What came next was equal parts sexy and strange. Castiel opened his lips and spit poured out. It glided down towards Dean’s asshole.  
  
The whole experience left Dean staring at the ceiling with his mouth open. How did Castiel have so much spit in his mouth?  
  
“I happened to start salivating when a certain someone decided to touch me and sit on me.”  
  
Dean wasn’t sure if he managed to nod or not, but he figured that Castiel’s answer made sense.  
  
Fingers began to rub the saliva into his hole, catching drips that had gone too far and bringing them back up. Finally, Castiel’s finger entered him.  
  
Dean groaned this time, guttural, loud, impatient. “Faster, damn it!”  
  
Ignoring him, Castiel maintained his excruciating pace. When he got three fingers in he twisted twice before Dean gave up on waiting.  
  
Using the arms that were tucked under him, Dean pushed off of the bed and managed to flip Castiel off of him. It wasn’t as coordinated as he would have liked, but it did the job. He was prepared enough and Castiel was just being mean at this point. He crawled on top of Castiel, spit a healthy dollop of spit into his hand, pumped Castiel’s cock twice, and slid onto it, closing his eyes in reverence.  
  
God.  
  
He sat there for a moment, just enjoying that he finally had something inside of him. When he opened his eyes, Castiel was looking at him, cheeks flushed, mouth hanging open, pink tongue peeking out.  
  
Dean rolled his hips, pulling a groan from Castiel, whose hands flew up to his waist.  
  
It didn’t take long then. Dean bounced and Castiel helped to support him by holding onto his hips. Dean realized just how hard it was to say ‘Castiel’ when he was panting and overall feeling euphoric; he ended up cutting it off. “Cas, fuck, Cas!”  
  
Cas’ grip tightened and held Dean mostly in place while he took over, thrusting with so much force that the bed frame was moving.  
  
One of Dean’s hands pressed to Cas’ chest to help balance himself since his knees had gone numb and weak, and the other hand found his cock and began to stroke it. He couldn’t concentrate hard enough to stroke in time with the thrusts he was getting into his ass, but he didn’t fucking care. “Cas!” He came on Cas’ chest and his own hand.  
  
Growling, Cas’ thrusts stuttered before coming with a drawn out, “Dean.” His hips collapsed to the bed as his cock twitched inside of Dean.  
  
Dean wasn’t ready for it to be over. He swiveled his hips and rode out the rest of their orgasms.  
  
Things calmed. Dean’s stomach muscles were tired, but he wanted to stay sitting up; he wanted to keep as much of Cas inside him as long as possible. He wanted this to last, but not just this moment, this whole thing, this him and Cas thing.  
  
His bit his lip and looked down at his newest lover. “Promise me that this isn’t just tonight.”  
  
“Dean-”  
  
“No,” Dean leaned over a little, pressing both hands to Cas’ chest, insisting that he listen and respond, “Promise me.”  
  
Castiel’s hands caressed Dean’s calves, tucked at his sides. “I promise.”  
  
“Even if I run?”  
  
“Dean, is this really-?”  
  
Dean reached over and pulled the gun from under the pillow. He grabbed one of Castiel’s hands and placed it on the barrel of the gun. He curled his fingers around Castiel’s and returned his gaze to Cas’ blue one. “Promise to hunt me down, no matter what. And not because of that contract, but because to want me. Promise to want me.”  
  
Castiel studied his face; he seemed to finally understand the gravity of the moment.  
  
Under Dean’s hands and thighs, Castiel’s muscles rippled as he sat up. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist and pressed his nose to his cheek. “I promise to always want you.”  
  
Dean’s heart, soul, and cock twitched. God, probably his hole too.  
  
Castiel traced his nose along Dean’s cheek to his ear. “I promise to hunt you down and fuck you senseless when you run away.”  
  
Letting go of the gun, Dean grabbed his face and kissed him, harsh on the mouth, sealing the deal. Castiel was left holding the gun between their bodies and digging his fingertips into Dean’s back.  
  
When they pulled away, Castiel looked down at the gun. “Why did I swear it on a gun?” He looked back to Dean with a slightly amused expression.  
  
“Shotgun wedding. It’s how my parents promised themselves to each other.” Dean took the gun and put it back under the pillow. His face had flushed from embarrassment; he looked away to prevent the inevitable of Castiel being disgusted by his romantic side. God, why did he have to do that? Why was he so needy?  
  
Chuckling, Castiel flopped back on the bed and coaxed Dean to lay down with him. “Don’t be embarrassed. Now, I don’t feel bad for wanting to cuddle.” He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> me: [marymotherofhunters.tumblr.com](http://marymotherofhunters.tumblr.com) but I'm on hiatus rn...
> 
> art: [gabedrawz.tumblr.com](http://gabedrawz.tumblr.com) aka [gabrielseductivetrickster.tumblr.com](http://gabrielseductivetrickster.tumblr.com)


End file.
